Race Against Time
by Italian Hobbit
Summary: Kili has decided that Fili needs to learn archery, but a mishap puts Kili's life in grave danger. No slash.
1. A Crisp Morning

The cool, crisp air of autumn swirled and danced around Fíli and Kíli, carrying with it bright red and orange leaves that clung to their bodies. The young dwarves joked and laughed together, every once in a while shoving each other playfully. They were alone, enjoying brotherly time together away from disapproving eyes and strict uncles. No one understood their mischief; but to them, that was all right. They understood each other.

It was early in the morning. The sun still hid behind the mountains and everything held a pale blue hue. Mist rose from the ground, forming a fog before the sun would burn it away. It was one of those rare mornings where every intake of breath seems to bring in joy and wonderment; this feeling was not lost on Fíli and Kíli. They lay down in the cold, blue grass, closing their eyes and breathing in the crisp air, their noses and cheeks pink with cold.

"How long until Thorin discovers we're gone?" said Kíli.

"I'd give him an hour, maybe two," Fíli replied. "It's early yet, and we both know he had too much ale last night."

Kíli chuckled. "I don't think I've ever seen him dance in such a lively fashion." They both laughed at the memory. "You had a bit much yourself, Fíli. How is your head?"

Fíli groaned. "Sore," he said, "but this fresh air is doing me a world of good."

"Good," said Kíli. "Then you'll be fine for archery practice, right?"

Fíli let out another groan, this one louder and longer than the first, and closed his eyes. "I don't know why you are so intent on making me as good as you," he said. "You're almost better than Thorin now. I prefer my axes and my knives."

"Oh, come on!" said Kíli, rolling onto his side and propping himself up with one arm. "Who knows? One day, you may be very grateful that I made you learn."

Fíli opened one eye and raised an eyebrow.

"Imagine killing Smaug the Terrible with one arrow," Kíli said. "Or do you think a great dragon is going to stay in range of your axes and knives?"

"I'll just let you shoot him, then," Fíli said, closing his eye and sighing. Kíli made no sound, and after a minute, Fíli got suspicious and opened his eyes. Kíli had sat up and was looking at him with his shining brown eyes, his mouth pulled into a frown.

"Kíli, you're not a child anymore. Cut that out."

Kíli kept staring at him, opening his eyes even wider. Fíli sighed and hit the ground.

"Fine," he said, "teach me how to shoot."

Kíli grinned and hopped up onto his feet. He held out a hand, and Fíli took it and pulled himself up. Kíli took his bow and quiver and tossed them to Fíli, who looked at them with unease.

"It'll be fine," Kíli said. "Come on!"

Fíli shouldered the quiver and followed Kíli into the woods.

* * *

"Now, remember, you need to pull back as far as you can," Kíli said. "And you only need to let go with your fingers, not your entire arm."

"You've told me this ten times already," Fíli growled. "Just let me try."

Kíli held up his hands and stepped back, closing his mouth. He raised his eyebrows, and Fíli rolled his eyes.

"Being taught archery by my younger brother," he muttered. He notched an arrow into the bow and took aim at a nearby tree. The tip of the arrow fell away from the bow.

"You have to—"

"Shut _up_," Fíli snapped. He felt heat creeping up into his cheeks. He was an accomplished fighter with the axe and the sword and the knife, but he felt like a 10-year-old again when he held a bow. He would have teased Kíli about the elves' weapon, but Thorin also had great skill with a bow, and Fíli held his uncle in the highest respect. Besides, Kíli's skill had saved his life once before, years ago.

He drew the arrow back again and aimed. He took in a deep breath, and released the arrow as he breathed out. _Thunk._ The tip sank into the tree trunk, and Fíli lowered the bow, smiling. He felt a clap on his back.

"See, I didn't think it'd be that hard for you!" Kíli said. "You're doing really well!"

Fíli nodded with a half-hidden grin. He was pleased, but his pride still felt wounded.

"Fíli! Look!"

Fíli whirled around and searched the woods for whatever it was that Kíli saw. His eyes caught it almost immediately – a large buck, not too far away – at least, close enough to shoot.

"Can you shoot it?" Kíli said.

"I don't know," Fíli whispered. "I can try."

"Oh, that would be good for dinner tonight," Kíli said with excitement. "Give it a shot." He ran toward the buck quietly, hiding behind a tree. The buck remained still, munching on some vegetation. Kíli looked back at Fíli and nodded.

Fíli took in a deep breath and strung an arrow into Kíli's bow. He pulled back the arrow swiftly and took aim, his heart pounding. This would be so much easier with one of his knives – he wouldn't have felt any nervousness at all, then. But now he felt the double pressure of bringing home a good meal and not embarrassing himself in front of his younger brother. He hesitated.

"What are you waiting for?" hissed Kíli. "Shoot it!"

Fíli took another deep breath and focused on the buck. He blew out slowly and readied to release the taut string.

Suddenly, a branch fell from a nearby tree, startling the buck and causing it to dash. Fíli faltered.

"Shoot it!" Kíli shouted.

Fíli quickly pulled the bow again and turned to catch the buck in its path, releasing without fully aiming in his panic to catch it. He missed, and the buck got away.

"Damn it!" he shouted, shouldering the bow. He looked to where Kíli had been standing, embarrassed. But Kíli was not standing anymore. He was kneeling, and a cold wave of fear ran through Fíli's body as he beheld what he had done. An arrow was buried deep in Kíli's side.

"Kíli!" he screamed, and he ran to his brother. He was kneeling with his head against the tree, shaking and silent.

"Oh, Kíli, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he said hoarsely. Kíli only grunted, breathing hard, his eyes squeezed shut. Fíli was at a loss for what to do. The arrow had not gone through, which mean the head was stuck inside him. They hadn't taken the ponies. The only options were to carry him – unlikely, as movement could move or break the arrow – or go and tell Thorin what he had done. Another cascade of fear went through him at the thought of Thorin's inevitable anger. But it had to be done.

"Kíli? I'm going to get Uncle," he said. "I'll be back as soon as I can be."

Kíli nodded shakily, still incapable of speech.

"I'll be right back, Kíli. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Kíli reached out and took his hand, squeezing gently. "It was an accident," he grunted. Fíli watched as a visible wave of pain went through Kíli, who let out a short cry. "Get Uncle, please," he whimpered.

Fíli squeezed his hand and stood up, searching for the exit to the woods. He ran as fast as he could, crashing through brush and branch in a race against time.


	2. Pressure

**_Wow! You guys responded so quickly to this story, and so favorably! I love you all!_**

**_Before I wrote this chapter, I did some research on arrow wounds. I really love when a story is realistic, and I didn't want to slack of just because this is a fanfic, nor did I want to overstate the drama of the incident for the sake of angst. But oh! What I discovered. I am sitting here absolutely horrified at just how serious arrow wounds actually are, and feeling quite guilty for what I have done to poor Kíli. As far as my research shows, an arrow wound to the torso is about as serious as things can get._**

**_Thanks to my lovely friend Immi for all her help in editing this so that it's much more wonderful now. She gave me so much help I could credit her as a cowriter, so when you wonder at how fabulous this is (tee hee) keep in mind that it wasn't all me!_**

**_And now, let's dive into the drama!_**

* * *

For the first time in his life, Fíli wished that he were a Man, jealous of their long legs and swift gait. While it was true that dwarves were a dangerous rival in a sprint, he was at least a fifteen minutes' walk from home. Five or ten if he ran. He had not a moment to lose – even that short distance felt too long.

He dashed into the home he shared with his mother, brother, and uncle, searching about for Thorin wildly. He was not in the kitchen, nor in the pantry. Still asleep, and likely with a hangover. Fíli didn't have time to worry about that now. He burst into Thorin's room, startling him out of his sleep.

"By Durin, what's the matter with you, boy?" he roared.

"Kíli's hurt," Fíli said quickly.

Thorin blinked, and frustration burned in Fíli's abdomen.

"Uncle, please, I need you now!" Fíli cried desperately.

"What's happened?" Thorin demanded.

Fíli shrank back, suddenly afraid to speak. Ten half-imagined scenarios of what Thorin would do to him when he discovered what he had done flew through his mind in rapid succession. He felt small, like a child, but the crime was much more severe than anything he had done even on his worst days.

Thorin pulled himself out of bed and began to dress, waiting for Fíli's answer.

"Speak, Fíli!" he said impatiently.

"It – it was an accident, we were practicing with the bow, well – Kíli was teaching me, and it just – there was a buck – and – "

"Out with it!" Thorin interrupted.  
"He got – I shot him with an arrow, Uncle."

Never before had Fíli seen his strong and stoic uncle show any sign of fear, but at these words, all the blood drained from his face. He knew how serious arrow-wounds could be – he had seen too many die from them. He said nothing for a moment, then cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

"Get Óin," he said. "And the ponies."

Fíli nodded and ran to find Óin, leaving Thorin to dress. Guilt wracked him with every step, and if he had not been in such a hurry, he felt as if he would have crawled on his belly in shame. He ran to Óin's home, and burst in the door without knocking. Óin sat in the kitchen, whistling and mixing some kind of medicinal potion. Óin looked up from his work and squinted at Fíli, surprised.

"Can I help you, Master Fíli?" he said courteously, raising his ear trumpet.

"I need you now," Fíli gasped. "Kíli is gravely injured. Thorin sent me for you."

"Injured how?" said Óin. He continued stirring his potion, as if the words "gravely injured" meant nothing. The burning sensation returned in Fíli's belly; his patience had already been worn to almost nothing.

"Arrow," Fíli said. "Can we please hurry?"

Óin's eyes widened. He immediately abandoned his work and grabbed his apothecary's satchel, throwing in some surgical tools from various drawers.

"Will you meet us at my home?" Fíli said.

"Yes, of course," said Óin. Fíli ran back to his own house, out of breath but running on adrenaline. The short run gave him too much time to think; the crippling guilt returned, and it took all of his strength to keep running and not drop to the ground and drag his face in the dust. He dashed to the barn behind his home to grab the ponies and found Thorin already there, putting the saddles on quickly and efficiently. Fíli's throat tightened when he saw Thorin, and he wanted to drop to his knees and beg for mercy before Thorin could scream at him or hit him or - who even knew? Fíli had never done anything this horrible before. Thorin, however, kept a calm demeanor when he caught Fíli's wilting gaze.

"Óin will follow shortly," breathed Fíli. "He's gathering supplies now."

Thorin nodded seriously, his face unreadable. Still, Fíli knew that Thorin must be livid with him, and he could think of nothing to say. Though he kept his composure outwardly, he felt like he was crumbling on the inside. He had done great harm to the dearest person to him in the entire world, and if Kíli died, he would never forgive himself, if he lived to be four hundred years old. Even what he had already done felt like it had killed a part of him, like he had betrayed Kíli. Kíli had only wanted Thorin when Fíli had left him. What if Kíli didn't trust him anymore? What if Kíli would never have a chance to trust him anymore? _No_, he thought, pushing the thought out of his mind. He would not give up so early on his baby brother.

Fíli looked at his pony and then at Kíli's. Kíli always teased him about his pony, Clover. She was a good girl, but Kíli was convinced that his own pony, Princess, was much faster. Perhaps Kíli was right, and Fíli's pride was already dying on the floor. He might as well save Clover the weight and ride Princess. Time was not on his side.

Óin arrived a couple minutes later – a couple minutes too long, in Fíli's mind – and they set off at full speed, Fíli leading the way back. They were moving too quickly for talk, which he was grateful for. He didn't want to say anything. Even if he had anything to say, his throat was dry and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth from running back at forth. He was grateful for the ponies this time around.

They burst into the woods, and they had to slow down to avoid hitting trees, which annoyed Fíli greatly. He needed to get back to Kíli _now_. He tried to spur Princess on, but she flattened her ears and refused to speed up. Maybe it wasn't Princess that was faster - maybe Kíli was just the better rider. He had always been quicker, sharper. That's what made him a better shot, too - Fíli was sure of that. Kíli wouldn't have missed the buck; he wouldn't have shot his brother. He wouldn't have made this mess. The small dwarf inside Fíli shrank lower as he considered that maybe Kíli was just the better brother, and Fíli was the failure.

Even with the delay with the disobedient ponies, they made it back to Kíli in less than ten minutes. As soon as he was in view, Fíli dismounted and ran to his side. Kíli had not moved since he left. He knelt beside him and peered into his face, desperate to find signs of life. At first glance, Kíli didn't appear to be alive at all, and for a second all Fíli could hear was his own blood rushing in his ears, louder than a hurricane. He panicked and put his pointer and middle fingers on Kíli's neck, feeling for a pulse. The blood in his ears faded away as he felt a pulse against those two fingers. He was deathly pale and his breathing came in short, quick breaths, but he was alive. Fíli breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm back, Kíli," he said, brushing damp hair from Kíli's brow. "I've brought Uncle and Óin. You'll be fine." He tried to sound confident, but his cracking voice betrayed him.

Kíli smiled halfheartedly, and Fíli noted the blood on his teeth. So he was coughing up blood… Fíli felt that rush of blood in his ears again. He knew that that was never good, that it meant blood was in his lungs.

Within moments Fíli heard the _thump_ of Thorin's heavy boots hitting the ground and his determined gait. He cringed under that gait, as he had done so many times as a small child when he was in trouble. The sound of Óin's lighter gait and the clinking of tools followed. Thorin knelt beside Kíli and examined the damage; when he saw the location and depth of the arrow, he blanched, and Fíli felt a cold fear wash over him. If Thorin was scared, anyone should be scared. He felt the small dwarf inside of him shrink even smaller in shame. He knew in that moment that he didn't deserve to be Thorin's heir; he was a failure, a traitor, possibly a murderer. How could he stand proud next to his uncle ever again?

"What do we do?" said Thorin tersely.

"Let me see him," said Óin, and Fíli and Thorin obediently moved out of the way. Óin studied the wound placidly. If he felt any worry, he did not show it. Fíli wondered at his fortitude.

"How does Kíli bind his arrows?" Óin said as he inspected the shaft in Kíli's side.

"He ties them with animal sinews," Fíli said.

"No good, no good," muttered Óin, and Fíli felt as if the little dwarf inside him had almost wasted away.

"Why is it no good?" he forced himself to ask.

"Fíli, quiet. Let Óin work," Thorin snapped. Fíli felt the words hit him like a physical slap, and he backed away, barely able to stand. Thorin looked back at Fíli's stooped frame and followed him. Fíli recoiled at his approach, but to his great surprise, Thorin addressed him gently.

"When the sinew comes in contact with the interior of the body, it loosens, and the arrowhead can become stuck inside," Thorin explained. "It has already been in too long to pull the arrow out by the shaft."

"What do we do, then?" Fíli asked.

"Thorin, Fíli, lay him down and restrain him," Óin called.

Fíli swallowed. "Restrain him?"

Óin looked at him with an arched eyebrow, and Fíli came forward wordlessly.

Kíli, silent and still until this point, reacted violently to this development. He started and shook his head, his eyes wide and pleading.

"No, please," he whispered hoarsely.

"Lie still, Kíli," said Thorin, and he nodded to Fíli, who moved down by his feet, shaking like a leaf. Thorin slowly lowered Kíli to the ground; Kíli hissed through his teeth, drawing his knees up halfway and dropping them as it caused him more pain. Fíli took hold of his legs, and Thorin, having lowered him completely to the ground, took his arms. He nodded to Óin.

Óin came forward and examined the arrow. It stuck straight out from his side and was buried a good four inches at least. He frowned. Kíli watched him with wide eyes as he took hold of the arrow and very lightly tried to turn it.

Kíli screamed and struggled as searing pain swept through his side. Fíli and Thorin kept him in place as his screaming turned to coughing, and blood shot from his mouth in alarming quantities. Fíli felt the scream rip through his being as if he were running a gauntlet. It was as if he could feel the arrow in his own side, the pain was so real. He gasped harshly and looked up at his uncle, horrified. Thorin avoided his gaze and looked down at Kíli, stone-faced. Fíli envied his strength.

"Sorry, lad," said Óin gently to Kíli. He looked up at Thorin. "It's in his lung," he said. "I'll have to cut the head out."

Kíli began to struggle weakly against the hands that held him, and Fíli couldn't blame him. The idea of being cut open did not appeal to him, either.

"Should we move him?" said Thorin.

"No, best not," Óin said. "We'll have to do it here."

Kíli lay wheezing, his entire body damp with sweat. His gaze flicked back and forth from Thorin to Fíli, panic shining in his eyes. He tried to pull an arm loose from Thorin's strong grip, but he was no match for Thorin even on a good day. He caught Fíli's gaze.

"Please, brother," he whispered.

Tears Fíli didn't even know he had been holding spilled from his eyes as he slowly shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Kíli. We have to do this. I'm sorry."

The betrayal in Kíli's eyes pierced through Fíli's soul sharper than any arrow. This was all his fault - all of it. He bowed his head, no longer able to meet his brother's eyes, and let more silent tears fall.

Óin, ignoring Kíli's pleas, pulled a bottle out of his bag and uncorked it. He lifted Kíli's head gingerly and held the bottle to his lips.

"Drink, lad," he said. "It won't stop the pain, but it will take off some of the edge."

Kíli took the bitter-tasting medicine and swallowed as much as he could, coughing up half of it mixed with blood. Óin pursed his lips.

"That'll have to do," he said. "We'll wait just a couple minutes for the medicine to take effect."

Kíli's eyes suddenly opened wide and he wheezed harshly, as if no amount of breathing could bring air in. A sick grating sound came from his throat, and his skin began to take on a bluish tinge. His mouth opened and closed like a freshly-caught fish on the shore, but the only sound he made was that thick, grating noise. Óin immediately sprang into action.

"What have you given him?" Fíli shouted in a panic. "You're killing him! What have you done?"

"It wasn't the medicine," Óin snapped. "His lung has collapsed. No time to wait for the medicine. We must relieve the pressure."

Fíli looked down at his little brother, terrified. What did that mean? He looked up at Thorin, whose face was pale grey.

"Hold him tight, lad," said Óin, looking up at Fíli. All Fíli could think was _he's choking him, he's choking him_, but his hands were stuck in place anyway. Óin looked to Thorin. "You know what to do." Thorin nodded and found a thick stick, which he placed between Kíli's teeth. He then held Kíli's arms tightly. Fíli frantically looked from one to the other, unsure of what was going to happen next.

Óin took out a knife, and for a moment, Fíli's frenzied mind could only think that Óin was about to slit his throat, but Óin instead swiftly cut away the fine fabric around the arrow. They could get another shirt or another coat; they could not get another Kíli. At last Óin made it through the layers of clothes to Kíli's bloodsoaked skin. He took a long, thick needle from his bag, and without sparing another moment, he stabbed the needle into Kíli's chest. Kíli struggled violently, unable to scream, biting hard on the stick between his teeth. A sick hissing sound came from his chest. Fíli felt sick - this was too much. He could taste blood. Why could he taste blood?

"It's all right, lad," Thorin was saying calmly by Kíli's head as he panicked and wheezed and tears flowed freely from his eyes. Fíli hadn't seen him comfort Kíli like this since they were very small. Fíli wondered if Thorin told the truth - if Kíli would be all right.

Fíli's entire body felt cold and weak. He suddenly realized that he was biting his lip - that's why he tasted blood. He must have bitten too hard. The iron taste in his mouth flipped his stomach, and it took many deep breaths to keep himself from retching.

Óin removed the needle and placed a thin tube in its place. A whimper escaped from Kíli's throat, but the wheezing slightly subsided. Whatever Óin had done, it was working.

"Now we need to remove the arrow, lad," said Óin to his patient. "The medicine I gave you should be working now, but it's still going to hurt. I need you to _stay still_, you hear?"

Kíli no longer had any ability to comprehend what was going on around him. He looked upwards to Thorin, who simply held his arms in place. A strangled cry escaped his lips over the large stick in his mouth as he tried to escape. His eyes searched wildly until they met Fíli's grieved ones, and it took all the strength Fíli had to offer him a grim smile. This small gesture seemed to calm him, and he closed his eyes tight.

Óin took out a small knife, and Fíli realized what was about to happen. He wanted to beg and plead - _Please don't cut him, don't hurt him any more, don't hurt him, please -_ but all he could let out was a strangled sob. Óin ignored the intimate sound and began to cut an incision in Kíli's side. Fíli could feel Kíli's leg muscles tense as Óin worked, cutting down the length of the arrow's shaft until he came to the arrowhead, which was half buried in the lung. He reached into Kíli's body with careful fingers. Kíli struggled for a moment, then his eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp.

Fíli started forward, thinking the worst, but Thorin stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"He's just unconscious, Fíli. He isn't dead."

There was so much blood. Fíli had never had trouble with the sight of blood – goodness knows he had gotten enough cuts and scrapes to cure him of that – but the sight of Kíli losing such a large quantity from something that he had done made the world before him swim. He sat back and let go of Kíli's legs, which were now still.

He wanted to run. He wanted to get away, to hide from what he had done, but he couldn't leave his Kíli. What kind of brother would he be if he did? No, he had to stay and face his error. No matter what punishment Thorin would have for this foolishness - this _stupidity_ - nothing could be worse than witnessing the pain he had inflicted on his little brother, the one he had sworn to protect with his very life. He blinked hard, and heavy tears fell from his eyes.

Óin was now busy stitching up the incision. Kíli's breathing came in wheezes – the pressure on his lungs was relieved, but the collapsed lung was still not functioning at full capacity. The thin tube remained.

Fíli buried his face in his hands and took deep breaths, trying to hide his weakness. The tears fell silently down his cheeks, but he made no sound. He heard Thorin sit beside him, and he panicked, sure that harsh words or harsh hands were coming his way. He stood up and stumbled away, feeling like a child again, fleeing from Thorin's wrath.

"Fíli!" Thorin called sharply, and Fíli stopped in his tracks, even now not daring to disobey him. He dropped to his knees, his back turned to his uncle.

"You are both foolish," Thorin said. "You and your brother."

Fíli hung his head in deep shame.

"I'm sorry, Uncle, I'm so, so sorry." Fíli began. "This was – "

"An accident," Thorin finished.

Fíli pondered this admission, confused. Maybe Thorin's wrath would come later, when he was sure that Kíli was well. Minutes of silence passed between them.

"Will Kíli survive?" Fíli asked finally, turning to face his uncle.

Thorin looked at Kíli grimly. "It's hard to say," he said. He was never one to mince words. "I've seen this type of wound before, and – when the lungs are involved…" he drifted off.

"Uncle?"

"They don't survive most of the time," he admitted. Fíli felt as if his heart had shattered as he looked at his unconscious brother, still being carefully stitched up by Óin. "But Kíli is strong," Thorin continued. "Stronger than most. He is an heir of Durin, and we are hard dwarves to kill."

Fíli was not very reassured, but he put his faith in Thorin's faith. He knew that Kíli was a strong dwarf, and he knew he should not lose hope in his brother, one who was stubborn to the bone. He drew up his knees and rested his forehead on them, numb from the whirlwind of emotions of the last hour. Thorin came to his side and slung one strong arm around his shoulders. _The punishment must be coming later_, Fíli thought.

When Óin finished his work, Fíli and Thorin carefully lifted the still-unconscious Kíli onto Princess. Fíli tied him in place to keep him from falling off, taking special care to avoid his injured side. He felt like a young dwarf again, teaching his baby brother how to ride - Kíli had quickly gotten the knack of riding, and the ropes had not been necessary for many years. But this was what Fíli had reduced his dear brother to. He bent under the weight of his error, his guilt making it hard to even stand. Still, he refused to leave Kíli's side, opting to walk next to Princess instead of riding his own pony. He would not let his brother fall. They led the pony as quickly as they dared back to home; Kíli did not wake, not even when they laid him in his bed.


	3. Awakening

**_A/N: A lot of research has been put into this story, especially on the medical side of things. I've tried to make everything accurate, but since this is Middle-Earth and not our world, I've played a bit with what medical knowledge of this time would be. If anything seems out of place, just remember that Bilbo Baggins had a pocket-watch and indoor plumbing while they were still fighting with swords and shields and no one had heard of a bomb before._**

* * *

Fíli refused to leave Kíli's side for any reason. As soon as they had brought him in and laid him down, Fíli had pulled up a chair and sat in it, and there he had remained for the past six hours. Kíli had not awoken since he lost consciousness in the woods.

He had wanted to make Kíli as comfortable as possible, with warm, soft blankets, but Oin had forbidden it. Just enough pillows to elevate the upper half of his body, he'd said. The tube that Oin had inserted remained in Kíli's chest to keep the lung from collapsing again, and it needed to stay uncovered. It had taken Fíli the better part of an hour to look at it without feeling an uncomfortable ache in his own chest and a queasy feeling in his stomach. Thorin had built a warm fire in the fireplace of Fíli and Kíli's room, and when Fíli wasn't keeping close watch over his brother, he was making sure that the fire stayed hot to keep Kíli's uncovered body warm.

The guilt he felt was immense. How had it come to this? Before the sun had risen, the day had seemed so perfect. Now it was by far the worst day of his life.

And it was all his fault.

The weight of his own inadequacy was slowly crushing him. He was still waiting for Thorin to express his anger towards him, an event he was sure was coming and dreaded. His mother didn't even know yet. The thought clenched his stomach. His poor mother… he would understand if she never forgave him. He knew he would never forgive himself. He stood up from his chair to stoke the fire, wrapped up in his thoughts. He tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach and watched the flames dance in the hearth.

A moan from behind him grabbed his attention, and he was instantly at Kíli's side.

"Kíli?" he said quietly.

Kíli's eyelids fluttered open at the sound of his brother's voice. Fíli laid a hand on his arm, and the younger dwarf turned his head towards the touch.

"Hey, there," Fíli said. He couldn't help smiling. He'd been entertaining the fear that Kíli would never wake.

"Hi," Kíli said weakly, returning the smile. His expression suddenly changed as he tried to take in a deep breath and wheezed painfully. His brow furrowed and his eyes widened with panic as he tried again with the same result. Fíli put a hand on his stomach to calm him.

"Light breaths, Kíli."

Kíli nodded and lightened his breathing into short, shallow breaths. He relaxed as his body got the air it required, but Fíli could see the pain crossing his face. It tore at his heart ferociously.

"How are you feeling?" he said meekly.

"Been better," Kíli replied with a cheeky grin. It faded quickly. "It hurts," he added.

"I can get Oin to mix you something," Fíli said, already starting to rise. "Would you like me to get him?"

Kíli nodded, his eyes closed against the pain. Fíli stepped out of the room and into the kitchen, where Oin and Thorin sat at the table, talking in grave voices. They both looked up as he entered, surprised to see him away from Kíli's side.

"Kíli is awake," he said. Thorin started up immediately and moved past him into the bedroom. Fíli shrank back as he passed, but Thorin paid him no mind. He stood quietly for a moment, looking down at the floor as Oin eyed him quizzically.

"He's in pain," he said finally. "I didn't know if you had anything you could give him. For-for the pain. And he isn't breathing well."

"He won't breathe well for at least a couple of weeks, but I can certainly give him a draught for the pain," said Oin.

"Thank you."

Suddenly, there came a cry from the bedroom. Fíli's heart jumped in his chest and he dashed into the bedroom. Thorin was holding Kíli's hands at his sides, and Kíli was panting wildly, clearly distressed.

"What happened?" Fíli exclaimed.

"He saw the tube in his chest," Thorin said gruffly. "Wanted to take it out. Kíli, lad, stop struggling. You cannot remove it. It has to stay."

"It hurts," Kíli grunted through gritted teeth.

"Of course it does, but it's keeping pressure off your lung so you can breathe," snapped Thorin. "Now, stop this nonsense."

Kíli obeyed, letting out a hiss between his teeth and glaring at the ceiling. Thorin let go of his arms slowly; Fíli leaned back against the wall and let out a sigh of relief. Oin entered moments later with a bottle of dark liquid.

"Oin, please take this tube out," Kíli begged as soon as he saw him. Oin simply shook his head, and Kíli's nostrils flared in annoyance. As Oin approached the bedside, Kíli turned his head away.

"Don't be a child, Kíli," Thorin scolded.

Oin studied his patient for a moment, and then opened his mouth to speak. "Do you know what a collapsed lung means, young Master Kíli?" he said.

Kíli shook his head.

"It means that air has escaped from your lungs and into your body. The pressure outside the lung collapses it, and the only way to relieve the pressure is to allow the air to escape. That is why there is a tube in your chest, and _that_ is why you must not remove it."

Kíli remained silent, fuming.

"Stubborn lad," said Oin affectionately. "I've made you something for the pain. Come, drink it. Slowly, now."

Kíli accepted the draught and then leaned back into his pillows, refusing to make eye contact with anyone in the room. Fíli could tell from his demeanor that Oin's warning had gone in one ear and out the other, and he feared for his safety; he resolved to keep a vigilant eye on him.

"I'd like to talk to Kíli privately," Thorin said suddenly.

Oin nodded. "I'll take my leave now," he said. "I'll be at my home if you need me." He stepped out, nodding to Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli separately. Fíli lingered, reluctant to go, and Thorin turned to face him.

"Fíli, go," he said. "I will speak to you afterwards."

Fíli's stomach flipped upside down; he knew that this had been coming. He quickly left the room and shut the door behind him, then ran outside, using the walls as support as the fear balling in his stomach caused him to physically bend. He was done for. What would Thorin do to him? Scream at him? Beat him? Publicly denounce him as heir? He felt that he deserved it, but he didn't want any of it. He wanted this whole damn day to disappear. _He_ wanted to disappear.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pipe, eager for the relaxing properties of pipe-weed. He searched his pockets for his bag of tobacco, but he had none; he groaned and went back inside to find it. He checked the usual places in the kitchen where one of the three smokers usually left some pipe-weed, but to no avail. His was surely in his room, but he couldn't go in there right now. He briefly considered lifting some from Thorin's room when the door to his and Kíli's room opened and Thorin stepped out. Fíli froze, afraid for a moment that his uncle would know his thoughts and get him for that, too.

"He's asleep," Thorin said. "Must have been a sleeping draught. Oin's a clever dwarf."

"He's not just pretending, is he?" Fíli said.

"I've known him just as long as you have, Fíli."

Fíli felt heat creep into his cheeks. Of course Thorin would know if Kíli was pretending. How dare he doubt his uncle?

"Sit."

Fíli immediately obeyed, stuffing his pipe back into his pocket. His stomach was twisted in knots. He wanted to apologize, to grovel, to plead for mercy, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he remained silent. Thorin sat across from him and leaned back, crossing his arms. He studied his young nephew, who fidgeted nervously under his piercing gaze.

"I trust you understand just how serious this is," Thorin said.

Fíli nodded almost imperceptibly, waiting for the shouting to begin.

"Fíli, look at me, lad."

He brought his gaze up to meet Thorin's slowly.

"You know that it is my duty to be as a father to you. I promised your mother that when her husband – your father – died. I don't take that responsibility lightly… but I also do not consider you a burden."

This was not the direction Fíli had imagined at all. He searched Thorin's eyes, looking for some clue to what this all meant.

"I know that I can be hard on you, Fíli. You and your brother, but you especially as the eldest. You set an example for him. He looks up to you."

"I know," Fíli said, so quietly that he was practically mouthing the words.

"Kíli told me what happened. He feels quite guilty, you know."

"He what?" Fíli said. Why would Kíli feel guilty? He hadn't shot Fíli with an arrow. He hadn't nearly killed – or quite possibly actually killed – his only brother. What could he possibly feel guilty about?

"He was foolish," Thorin continued. "He told me that he moved into range of the bow and put himself in danger. He knows better than that." He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. "I've taught him better than that. And you, shooting without considering the path of your arrow?"

Fíli lowered his gaze and sank down in his chair. _Here it comes_.

"It's common sense, Fíli. You don't shoot when your comrades are in front of you. It's a perfect way to – well, for this to happen."

The knot in Fíli's stomach rose into his throat, and tears stung the corners of his eyes. He hid his face in his hands, ashamed of his weakness and unable to speak.

"But – it was an accident."

Fíli looked up, surprised.

"Uncle?" he said, unsure now.

"The situation is dire, and the consequences may be great, and yes, it was very foolish – stupid, really – but burying yourself in guilt will not make Kíli better."

Fíli could hardly believe what he was hearing. No shouting? No beating? Nothing?

"But, Uncle, I—"

"Have been punished enough," Thorin finished. "As I was saying earlier – I may be hard on you, Fíli, but I look on you as a son. I've seen the way you shrink in my presence, as if you are expecting me to strike you. I know you feel guilty, and I don't blame you, but I would that you were not afraid of me."

Fíli felt as if a great weight had lifted off his shoulders, but the lump in his throat grew larger. A tear spilled from his eye and he wiped it away quickly, embarrassed.

"Thank you, Uncle," he whispered. Thorin nodded sagely and offered him a comforting smile.

"Go to him," he said. "I'm sure you want to be at his side, and he will want you there if he wakes."

_If he wakes._ Fíli knew what he meant, but he also knew what it could mean. He stood up and returned to his and Kíli's room, reclaiming his place at Kíli's side. There he stayed for hours, only moving to build the fire. Kíli's chest rose and fell irregularly, but at least it was moving at all.

* * *

It was late in the evening when Dís finally arrived at home. Fíli could hear her humming as she entered and the clank of coins on the table from her day of selling trinkets in the neighboring human villages.

"Dís," came Thorin's voice rumbling through the door. "I need to speak with you."

There was a pause. "What's happened, Thorin?" she said.

Thorin explained to her the events of the day in a hushed tone; Fíli could not make out what he was saying, but his mother's horrified sob was unmistakable. He cringed. He hated to hurt his poor mother, who had already lost so much – her grandfather, her father, her husband, her brother Frerin… Fíli found himself wishing solely for his mother's sake that Kíli would not die.

Thorin was speaking again, surely words of comfort, and then Dís's voice rang clear – "Let me see him."

Moments later, Dís entered the room. Fíli looked back at her and met her bloodshot eyes. She slowly walked to the bedside and placed her hands on Fíli's shoulders; he put his right hand over her left and rested his cheek on top.

"He's been asleep," Fíli said. "Oin gave him a sleeping draught… he was causing trouble."

"He's always causing trouble," said Dís, and Fíli smiled. Typical Kíli. She sat on the side of the bed and stroked his hair gently.

"He's strong," she said softly. "He is of the line of Durin. He will survive. I am sure of it." She placed her hand on his bare chest. "His heart is strong still."

"I'm sorry, Mother," Fíli said, his voice cracking.

Dís turned to face him and took his face in her hand. "You didn't mean to do it," she said. "I do not blame you."

Fíli let out a shuddering sigh and leaned his head into her palm. She stroked his cheek with her thumb and smiled.

"Thorin tells me you've been here all day," she said. "Go – get some fresh air. I'll sit with him for a while."

Fíli got up wordlessly and retrieved his pipe-weed from the mantelpiece. He snuck past Thorin, who was staring into the kitchen fire, and slipped outside into the cool air. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep.

He packed his pipe and then pulled his tinder-stick out of his pocket, lit it on the lantern by the door, and brought it to the bowl of his pipe. The fire went out before the leaves could catch, and he tried again – once again, the light went out. A burning frustration sprung up in his chest as he tried one more time – and again, the light went out.

Fíli tossed the pipe roughly and shouted a dozen curses in Khuzdul, his voice breaking with every curse he uttered. He leaned back against the doorframe when he was done, his anger spent.

"Oh, Kíli," he whispered as he sank to the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut and choked out a sob, and this time, he allowed the tears to fall.


	4. Heat

**_A/N: There is mention in this chapter of Fíli and Kíli sharing a room and a bed, and I want to say a few things about that so no one gets the wrong idea. First of all, I hate slash, and I especially hate incest, so there is absolutely no way that that is what I am implying. Second of all, I did plenty of research on this beforehand, and the only reason that we find it weird for men to share a bed is because of a serious homophobia that started in the 1950s that made men afraid to be affectionate around each other (Check out the website The Art of Manliness if you'd like to see the history!). I have decided for the sake of this story ignore this, and if anyone has a problem with that, I'd like you to pick up The Fellowship of the Ring and read the chapters where the hobbits all take a bath together in Tom Bombadil's house and then later run around in the fields naked. And none of them are gay. So there._**

**_Anyway – here's chapter four!_**

* * *

The fire was dying when Fíli awoke.

_Fool_, he scolded himself. He had been so vigilant through the night in making sure the fire stayed hot, but he had fallen asleep in the chair after keeping watch until early in the morning. The day was just barely beginning – Fíli could see the first hints of daylight out the window, a dark blue light barely illuminating the sky.

Twenty-four hours ago, everything had been fine.

Fíli sighed wearily and rubbed his temples, and then sat up slowly, groaning as his joints creaked and pain shot through his lower back. Wooden chairs were definitely not made for sleeping in. He stretched as he stood, feeling the blood flow back into his pinched legs. Slowly, he lumbered over to the fireplace and tossed some more wood on the smoldering fire. When the wood was burning to his satisfaction, he turned back towards the bed; normally, Fíli and Kíli shared this bed, but Fíli was too afraid of moving and hurting Kíli somehow in his sleep – although Kíli had always said that he slept like a log. But the fear remained, and he would not risk it. Not while that ghastly metal tube was still in Kíli's chest. Óin had promised to remove it tomorrow.

_Today_, he corrected himself. His heart swelled at the thought. Even this small sign that Kíli was healing brought him great hope. The road would be long and hard, but they were making at least one step on the journey. They just had to make sure that Kíli made it the whole way.

He looked at the hard wooden chair with distaste. His backside was sore from sitting in that chair for a whole day, and his spine felt compressed. He needed to lie down. Or sit somewhere more comfortable.

He opted for sitting on the bed, lowering himself slowly so as to not wake his slumbering brother. Kíli breathed easier in his sleep – and he complained far less. Fíli studied his sleeping frame.

Kíli looked peaceful in the low light – at least, peaceful for him. He had thick, dark eyebrows that slanted inward, and when he wasn't laughing – granted, a common occurrence – he tended to look angry to people who didn't know him well. But Fíli knew that when he was truly angry, he looked much different. He always tried to look ferocious, gritting his teeth and sneering like Thorin, but he lacked the features that would render him a frightening dwarf. His nose was small, his build was lean, and his beard was barely worth mentioning. But what he lacked in frame, he more than made up for in skill. His ability with a bow was virtually unmatched – except by Thorin, of course – and he wielded a blade with deadly strength and accuracy. He was quick and lithe, offering him an advantage over more traditionally built dwarves in practice, which he utilized frequently.

But now he had been put at a great disadvantage by Fíli's hand. If – _when_, he told himself – Kíli recovered, that wound in his side could pain him for years. Not to mention all the time he would spend bedridden, unable to practice. The horrible stab of guilt returned, making him wince. He knew now that Thorin and his mother held no anger towards him, but be that as it may, it still didn't change what had happened. He had caused unnecessary pain and suffering for all of them. He didn't know if it was even possible to not feel guilty about that.

The bandages on Kíli's torso were starting to stain through. They would have to be changed soon. Fíli touched the red stain gingerly, his heart filled with sorrow. It would bleed for days, most likely, even with the stitches. The wound was deep, and the incision would surely slow the recovery as well.

Kíli stirred, and Fíli removed his fingers hastily, cursing his foolishness. He watched Kíli's face for signs of waking, but his younger brother remained peacefully asleep. Fíli let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and stood up. Kíli shifted again, and he froze.

"Mmph," Kíli mumbled, and Fíli smiled. Kíli often talked in his sleep, a fact that Fíli had teased him about relentlessly when they were children. Fíli would tell him that he had revealed some secret in his sleep, and Kíli would press him, panicked, until Fíli would laugh and say, "You fool. Is there anything that you keep a secret from me?"

"I guess not," Kíli would reply sheepishly.

Fíli's stomach growled. He had barely eaten anything the day before; he hadn't even had much of an appetite until now. After another glance at Kíli to make sure he was asleep, he quietly headed for the kitchen.

"Fíli?"

He stopped and waited. Kíli could very well be sleep talking.

"Fíli, where are you going?"

_Blast._ He'd woken him up.

"Just to the kitchen," he said.

"Don't leave me," Kíli whispered, and a lump formed in Fíli's throat.

"I'm just going to the kitchen," he said. "I'll be right back."

"Please don't leave," Kíli repeated, a little louder this time. "Please."

Fíli sighed and returned to the bedside, sinking into the chair. "I'm here," he said.

Kíli was fully awake now, and he studied his brother's face. "You look awful."

"You look worse," Fíli retorted.

"Have you slept?"

"A bit, in the chair, but not well," Fíli admitted. In truth, his lower back had protested the moment he had sat back down, and his eyelids felt so heavy that he wasn't sure how they were even open.

"Come to bed," Kíli said, nodding to the space next to him.

"No, I can't," Fíli said. "I don't want to move and hurt you in my sleep."

Kíli let out a chuckle that turned into a weak cough. "A whole army… couldn't move you when you sleep," he wheezed. "Don't make yourself ill on my account. Come to bed."

"All right," Fíli conceded after a moment's deliberation, secretly glad to be able to lie down. "But wake me if I hurt you."

"You won't," Kíli said confidently.

_But I already have_, Fíli thought. Kíli was either forgetful, foolish, or very, very trusting. The fact that his brother still trusted him after what he had done spoke volumes to his heart and lifted a little of the sorrow that he had been holding so close. He made his way around the bed and lay down carefully, trying to avoid moving the bed too much. He pressed his face into his pillow, and let out a strained sigh as his back straightened out painfully.

"I don't blame you," Kíli said.

"Mm?" Fíli said, already half-asleep.

"I'm not angry about what happened. It was my fault, too."

"It wasn't your fault," Fíli mumbled.

"It was as much mine as it was yours," Kíli insisted with a strained voice. "Don't take all the blame."

Fíli paused. He knew that Kíli meant it, but he wasn't sure that his guilt would allow him to assign blame to anyone but himself. The logical part of his mind told him that the accident would not have been possible had they not both been foolish, but he was so used to protecting his little brother from harm… and then this had happened. But Kíli had asked so sincerely, and Fíli knew that he meant it from the depths of his heart.

"I'll try," he said finally.

"Thanks," said Kíli. And with that, Fíli drifted off to sleep.

* * *

When Fíli awoke, the sun was high in the sky. The rays warmed his face through the window, and his eyes adjusted slowly to the light. He lifted his head and rubbed his eyes sleepily with a great yawn.

"Afternoon, brother."

Fíli turned his half-opened eyes up to Kíli. He was leaning back on his pillows with a bowl of soup on his lap and a cheerful expression on his face. Fíli merely blinked.

"You were snoring," said Kíli. "Never heard you snore before." He let out a chuckle, but it turned into a cough, and his brow furrowed. He put a hand on his chest and took shallow breaths; Fíli noted that the tube was gone. A bandage had taken its place.

"Óin took the tube out," Fíli commented.  
"Yeah, and you must've been really tired to sleep through that," Kíli said. "I wasn't exactly quiet when he did it. We thought of waking you first, but Uncle wanted you to sleep if you could."

Fíli looked at the small bandage and then back up to his brother's face. "It hurt, then?"

Kíli looked down at his bowl and nodded forlornly, and Fíli could see the memory of the pain in his face. It stung his heart.

"But it feels much better now," Kíli said cheerfully. He stopped again to breathe. "Damned lung," he said with a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes. Fíli gritted his teeth and buried his face in his pillow as the now-familiar twinge of guilt twisted in his stomach.

"Now, don't be like that," Kíli chided. "I meant what I said last night. Or… this morning."

Fíli said nothing in reply. He'd said he would try, but he wasn't sure that he would succeed. He could hear Kíli slurping his soup, apparently tired of waiting for a response.

He had almost drifted back off to sleep when Kíli began to cough violently. Fíli was up in an instant as Kíli hacked and choked, clutching his injured side. The bowl of soup clattered to the floor and splashed everywhere, but Fíli's eyes were only on Kíli.

"Wrong way down," Kíli croaked, then returned to his coughing. He doubled over in the bed, tears flowing from his eyes; Fíli put a hand on his back, unsure of what to do. Thorin burst into the room suddenly and ran to Kíli's side. Fíli looked up at him desperately.

"He-he was just eating," he said with a trembling voice.

"Kíli, listen to me," Thorin said. "Tuck your chin into your chest and swallow." Kíli did as he was told, but he kept coughing, losing more breath than he could take in. His coughs weakened, but still he hacked, his body working hard to reject the offending material from his windpipe.

"Keep swallowing, lad," Thorin said. Kíli nodded and swallowed one, two, three times, and his coughing lessened gradually. He wheezed, still clutching his side, and leaned forward; a thin line of bloody saliva dropped from his lips. Thorin and Fíli exchanged concerned looks.

"All right?" Thorin said gently. Kíli let out a couple weak coughs and nodded. He tried to sit up straight and groaned painfully. Thorin put a hand on Kíli's chest and the other on the back of his head and leaned him back into his pillows. The young dwarf's face was flushed, and he breathed harshly. His dark hair clung to his forehead; there was blood on his chin, and his hands shook. Thorin took a napkin from the bedside table and wiped away the blood.

"Should we get Óin?" Fíli said.

"No," said Thorin. "It was probably just irritation from the coughing. Just keep an eye on him." He studied Kíli's face one more time, his brow furrowed. "Watch him closely." He picked up the bowl and whatever bits of soup he could find from the floor, dropped a napkin to sop up the rest, and left the room.

Fíli watched him leave and then turned his attention to his brother. Kíli was still shaking like a leaf, gasping for air. Saliva dripped from his chin, but to Fíli's relief, there was no more blood. Fíli sidled up beside him and put an arm around him, a silent gesture that he knew would comfort him without poking at his dignity.

To his great surprise, Kíli turned to lay his head on Fíli's chest. The older dwarf paused for a moment, shocked at the juvenile motion. Kíli had often leaned against him like this as a child, but never in recent years. However, he hugged his brother closer, his heart aching as the invalid dwarf shuddered in his arms. He then pulled the blankets over the both of them, fearful of Kíli catching cold in his condition. Kíli moved in closer silently, and soon his breathing slowed into a fitful pattern that Fíli recognized as sleep. He rested his chin on Kíli's head and stared into the dying fire, thankful for the living dwarf that dozed on his chest.

* * *

Fíli opened his eyes and immediately cursed himself for falling asleep. He looked down at Kíli, who lay still sleeping in his arms. He smiled fondly, recalling days many years ago when Kíli had often fell asleep like this – only then, he had been much smaller. _Once a baby brother, always a baby brother._ He reached up to stroke Kíli's hair absentmindedly; to his surprise, he found it still damp with sweat. How long had he been asleep? Judging by the movement of shadows in the room, it had to have been at least an hour. He put his hand on Kíli's forehead, and his heart sank.

He had a fever.

Fear paralyzed Fíli's body as images flew through his mind in rapid succession: Kíli lying dead, Kíli in a casket, Kíli being buried. He kicked himself mentally and pushed the images away. _Focus, Fíli. What do you need to do?_

_Tell Thorin,_ his mind answered. He gently lifted Kíli off his chest and laid him down on the pillows. He felt his forehead again: definitely hot. With a leap, he was off the bed and running into the kitchen. Thorin sat by the fire, smoking; he turned as Fíli stepped into the room and lowered his pipe.

"What is it?" Thorin said, reading the look on Fíli's face.

"I think Kíli has a fever," he said.

Thorin looked down and sighed; his shoulders hunched over, and deep sorrow crossed his face.

"Did you check the arrow-wound?" he said.

"No, I thought I'd tell you," Fíli said. "I thought you might know what to do."

Thorin's head bowed lower. He stood up and set his pipe on the mantelpiece. "Let's have a look at it," he said wearily.

The two re-entered the bedroom, where Kíli lay now awake and shivering.

"C-cold," he gasped as a violent tremor shook his body. Fíli jumped back onto the bed, and Thorin sat at his bedside. He rested his palm on Kíli's forehead and nodded, his countenance downcast.

"We need to look at the arrow-wound," he said. "Kíli, can you sit up?"

Kíli pulled his head forward weakly and hissed in pain, dropping back into the pillows. He shook his head forlornly. Thorin looked to his older nephew. "Fíli, sit him up," he said.

Fíli wrapped his left arm around his shivering brother and slid his right hand onto his lower back. He slowly lifted him upright; Kíli groaned as another tremor shook his body. Thorin unwrapped the bandages around his torso, then motioned for Fíli to lay him down on his right side. Still holding him with his left arm, Fíli moved away the pillows and lowered Kíli onto his side as directed. Thorin leaned forward and inspected the wound. The area around the arrow-wound was an angry red color, and red lines extended from the site of injury; a foul-smelling greenish-white liquid oozed from the entry wound. Thorin closed his eyes tightly and swore.

"Get Óin," he said gruffly. Fíli looked at him blankly, frozen in his distress.

"Go!" Thorin shouted, and Fíli ran.


	5. Weakness

**_A/N: Forewarning: This chapter deals with some things that may make some people uncomfortable, but I felt that it is ignored by writers too often and is an important part of showing just how vulnerable the sick really are. I've tried to deal with the situation as delicately as I possibly can._**

**_I had a reviewer in the previous chapter who pointed out that you cannot actually stitch up an arrow wound. I agree. At some point I'll edit parts that say the hole is stitched up and make it just the incision, but in case you were envisioning something different, just know that. :)_**

**_Also, before you ask: the answer is yes, Óin's father is really named Gróin. I don't know, dude. I just don't even know. But it is basically my favorite random Tolkien fact to throw at people just for the fact that it is hilarious, so of course I had to incorporate it somehow._**

* * *

_He cannot die. He cannot die. He cannot die._

Óin's mouth was moving, giving him instructions, to be sure, but his voice was dim in the rush of blood that moved through Fíli's ears.

_He cannot die. He cannot die. He cannot die._

"Fíli, you're not listening," he heard faintly. He looked up at the source of the rebuke – Thorin – but the rushing noise would not stop.

_He cannot die. He cannot die. He cannot die._

"Fíli!" Thorin said sharply, and Fíli blinked. The rushing faded, and his eyes met the matching blue of his uncle's.

"Listen," Thorin growled.

"I'm sorry," Fíli said quietly. He turned his still-detached gaze to Óin, who took his cue to continue.

"The wound must be cleaned three times a day," Óin repeated. "Change the bandages every time you clean it, and use the potion I gave you. Try to get some in the wound. It will clear out the pus."

Fíli looked down at the jar in his hands, which he had been absentmindedly sliding back and forth. The mixture inside was clear. Fíli wondered what was in it.

"How long until the infection clears?" Thorin asked.

"That depends on the depth of the infection," Óin replied. "I cannot guarantee the efficacy of my potions on so deep a wound. We will have to see."

"But it will work?" Fíli said.

Óin sighed. "We must hope so," he said.

This was not the answer Fíli wanted to hear. _Yes_ would have been good. _Without a doubt_ would have been perfect. But not _we must hope so._ Fíli swallowed and stared down at the jar in silence.

Thorin stood, and Óin followed suit. The two shook hands, and Thorin clapped a hand on Óin's shoulder.

"Thank you for all that you have done," he said. "We will never forget this kindness. May your beard grow ever longer, Óin son of Groín."

"And yours, Thorin Oakenshield," said Óin courteously. He bowed politely and saw himself out. Thorin turned to Fíli as the door closed; the younger dwarf remained staring at the jar sliding back and forth between his hands, his stomach gnawing away at him in deep guilt. If Thorin had anything to say, he decided against it; after a minute or two of silence, he retrieved his pipe from the mantelpiece and stepped outside.

Fíli looked up as the door clicked shut and twirled the bottle around with his finger, lost in thought. Kíli was sick. Kíli was dying. He was responsible. He had caused this.

It looked like he wouldn't be able to keep his promise, after all. He wasn't even trying to push away the guilt. He welcomed it now, letting the pain of regret wash through him and feeling it prickle in his skin. The hair on his arms stood on end, and he blinked several times in rapid succession.

_All your fault. All your fault. He's going to die. Look what you've done._

The door to his and Kíli's room creaked open, and Fíli looked up in surprise. In the doorway stood Kíli, pale, sweaty, and shaking.

"Kíli, what in Durin's name are you doing?" Fíli shouted, on his feet in an instant. Kíli attempted a step forward, clutching the doorframe. His weak grip failed to support him, and he dropped to the floor with a _thud_. Fíli rushed to his side and knelt, reaching an arm under his quaking body and pulling him into his chest. Kíli groaned at the movement and grasped at Fíli's arm, his face hidden in a curtain of damp, unkempt hair. He shuffled his feet against the floorboards, feebly attempting to regain his footing, but he could not pull himself up.

"Let me walk," he rasped.

"You shouldn't be out of bed," Fíli said, but Kíli still attempted to stand unsuccessfully.

"I have to," Kíli pleaded.

"No, you don't have to go anywhere. Come on, let's go back."

Kíli rested his head against his older brother. "Help," he whispered into Fíli's tunic.

"Where were you trying to go?" said Fíli, perplexed.

"I have to go," Kíli whispered fervently.

"Go where? You're not going anywhere but back to bed," Fíli said, lifting Kíli to his feet. Trembling, Kíli leaned into his brother, unable to support his own weight.

"No, I have to _go_," Kíli said urgently.

Kíli's meaning dawned on him, and a warm wash of horror and great discomfort rose from his chest to his temples. This problem had not occurred to him. The thought greatly disturbed him, but he shouldered his discomfort and shifted to more easily support his brother's weight. Any horror he felt, he was sure that Kíli's shame was worse.

"Well, we'd better get you there, then," he said, and led him down the hall. He helped him as needed, utterly mortified, and Kíli wept, ashamed to be so weak.

There was no strength in Kíli's legs as the two attempted to make it back down the hall; Kíli was still weeping, deeply ashamed, and his breaths came in gasps and hiccups. After several attempts to get Kíli to walk with no success, Fíli moved to pick him up completely, his heart breaking afresh.

"No," Kíli pleaded. "Let me walk."

"You can't," Fíli said.

"Please," said Kíli in a broken voice. "Let me have some dignity."

Fíli nodded and supported his weight as best he could, but Kíli's energy was spent. He couldn't even pick up his feet. At last he gave up, slumping into Fíli, tears dripping from his cheeks. Fíli put his free arm under Kíli's knees and lifted him off the ground. Kíli trembled in his arms and clutched at his tunic, hiding his face in the soft fabric.

Thorin stepped into the house, tapping his empty pipe on his palm as Fíli emerged from the hallway with Kíli in his arms. Fíli stopped and met Thorin's questioning eyes, his own shining with mortification and sorrow. Thorin peered down the hall and back at his nephews as he put two and two together; his stern visage softened, and he cleared his throat.

"Can you help me carry him?" Fíli said. "He's taller than me – hard to carry."

"Of course," Thorin said, crossing the room quickly. "Let me take him, Fíli." Thorin stood several inches above Kíli, and he had years that Fíli didn't in building muscle. They exchanged their burden awkwardly, and Fíli went ahead to prepare the bed for their invalid kin. Thorin laid him down gently, and Fíli pulled the covers over him. Kíli refused to look either of them in the eye; his cheeks burned with shame at his vulnerability.

"Go away, please," Kíli said.

Fíli and Thorin stood in uneasy silence, unsure if he meant it.

"Go away!" Kíli sobbed, and he covered his face with one arm. Thorin took his leave, but Fíli remained. He reached out and touched the younger dwarf's shoulder hesitantly. Kíli drew away from his touch.

"Leave me," he hissed.

Fíli withdrew his hand and left the room. A pounding headache was forming behind his left eye; he rubbed the offending temple, but the ache remained. He slumped into a chair at the table, where Thorin sat, his face hidden in his large hands.

"I haven't held him like that since he was a little child," Thorin said, his voice thick with emotion. Fíli said nothing, and Thorin lifted his face. His eyes were red and rimmed with tears. Fíli looked down, uncomfortable with his uncle's uncharacteristic overflow of emotion. He wasn't as stoic with his family as he was around others, but Fíli had still never seen him cry.

"We can't lose him, Fíli," Thorin said. "I cannot lose another of my kin. I've only got you and Kíli and your mother, now."

"I've brought this upon us," Fíli said. The twisting sensation of guilt had been twisting tighter and tighter, and he felt now that he might snap in half. He looked into his uncle's red eyes, his own filling with tears. "I'm so sorry, Uncle," he choked, and he buried his face in his arms, no longer able to control his emotion. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he sobbed. Huge shuddering sighs overtook him as he cried, ashamed of his tears but too emotional to care.

"Fíli, I am not angry with you," said Thorin. "Your mother is not angry with you. Even Kíli does not blame you for what happened. The only person who blames you is yourself."

"It was my fault, my shot," Fíli cried. "I shot him. How can I _not_ blame myself?"

"Now, stop this," said Thorin, his voice suddenly harsh. Fíli looked up through his tears, startled.

"Kíli will not heal by your guilt. We have told you that we do not blame you, and your self-pity is no longer welcome. You have had your time – now stop worrying about yourself. If Kíli is to survive, I need you ready to help, not crumbling in every spare moment."

The words cut through Fíli like a knife as he realized that Thorin was right.

"I'm sorry, Uncle – I've been selfish," he said, wiping his tears away and swallowing his pride.

Thorin nodded in silent acceptance and stood to his feet.

"Let's have some meat and an ale, then one of us can check on Kíli," he said. Fíli nodded silently and stood to assist him, but the same phrase turned over and over in Fíli's mind.

_If Kíli is to survive._

_If. If. If._


	6. Breath

**_A/N: This chapter is the shortest so far, save for chapter one. The reason is that there was another part to this chapter, but I decided to cut it off and expand it into Chapter 7. I tried to add more into this one, but it felt complete the way that it is. Until then – despair! I mean, enjoy! I mean… well, you'll see._**

* * *

By the next day, Kíli's fever had gotten so high that Dís insisted they put him in a lukewarm bath to cool him down. He had grown delirious in the night and did not protest to the treatment, though Fíli was sure he would be horrified if he had his senses about him. Fíli could not bring himself to help. Instead, he lay in Thorin's bed across the hall, resting. It was a temporary move, as they now needed to cushion Kíli on either side with pillows to prevent him from rolling off the bed, leaving no room for Fíli. From Thorin's room, he could hear Kíli babbling nonsense in Khuzdul and giggling childishly in the tub.

The twist of guilt in his stomach had turned into a dull ache of fear as the hours brought only worse change. By midday, Kíli had cried so hard he coughed up blood twice, and no one seemed to be able to placate him or even determine why he was crying. Fíli took charge of cleaning the wound and changing the bandages, as he could not bear the more private matters, leaving those to Dís and Thorin. Dís was constantly in and out, bringing in fresh, cool water and clean cloths for Kíli's brow and singing to him on the occasions when he cried, though her songs had no effect on his demeanor and she left the room crying herself. There was no joy in the house. Only Kíli laughed, but no one knew why.

By nightfall, Kíli's temperature had risen again and Dís subjected him to another lukewarm bath. Kíli cried pathetically the whole time, shrieking in Khuzdul about how he was drowning. Dís spoke comforting words in both Westron and Khuzdul, but Kíli only wailed harder until Thorin carried him back to bed, his face worn with deep sorrow. Fíli was waiting with fresh bandages and Óin's potion – _oin_tment, they'd started to call it – and Kíli squirmed under his care. The arrow-wound remained stubbornly open and leaking pus. Kíli screamed when Fíli applied the ointment and bandages. Fíli knew it hurt him, but he faithfully did his duty, even if it was through grieved tears. Never had he seen his brother so ill, and he prayed he never would again.

The fourth day was the worst.

Fíli awoke suddenly very early in the morning, a strange disquiet churning his insides, more so than even recently. He felt the need to check on Kíli. He would need a change in his bandages, anyway. He climbed out of bed slowly. Thorin snored beside him; Fíli tiptoed out of the room, wishing him all the sleep he could get.

Nothing in a thousand lifetimes could have prepared him for what he saw.

His brother, his Kíli, lay convulsing on the bed. All reason left the world as Fíli's senses filled with a tangible terror – he could smell it, taste it, feel it, a real and instant fear that made the world before him swim and the air turn into a thick liquid that tried to stop him from reaching his Kíli, his Kíli – no, this couldn't be happening, it wasn't real. He pushed through the viscous atmosphere with all the force he could muster, aware of a muffled sound that sounded far away and yet very close. As it clarified, he recognized it as his own screaming, but he couldn't stop, not until Thorin and Dís ran into the room and Dís forcibly turned his face to hers.

"Fíli, darling, stop screaming," she begged. He let out a strangled cry and tore his eyes away from Kíli's seizing frame, connecting with his mother's gaze. She pulled him into an embrace, and he wrenched his eyes back to Kíli. The feverish dwarf jerked unnaturally; Thorin's body blocked Fíli's view of his brother's face. He needed to see his face.

"It's the fever," Thorin said. "I've seen this before."

"I've killed him, Mum," Fíli cried. "He's dying, isn't he? I've killed him. Oh, Durin, I've killed him!" He tried to break free from his mother's grasp, but she held him with surprising strength.

"Wait, Fíli," she said. "Let it stop first."

Fíli watched helplessly as the most precious person in his entire world seized and shook. Thorin held his head gently and tried to keep him a safe distance from the side of the bed without getting in his way. All sound disappeared as Fíli waited for the moment, the moment he was sure was coming – the moment his precious brother would die.

Eventually, Kíli became still. Fíli pushed out of Dís's arms and flew to his side, kneeling at the side of the bed, fearing the absolute worst. Thorin put his ear to Kíli's mouth and listened; Fíli looked up at him hopefully. Thorin's expression pulled into something Fíli had never seen before.

"No," he whispered.

Fíli's world went white, and a high-pitched hum filled his ears. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. Not Kíli. Not his Kíli. He blinked hard, and his brother's still body came back into focus. Thorin had his fingers on Kíli's neck, feeling for a pulse. He looked lost for a moment, and then a glimmer of hope shone in his eyes. Fíli looked on desperately.

"Still alive," Thorin said. "But not breathing."

Fíli didn't know whether to be afraid or relieved. He felt dizzy. Thorin laid Kíli down and tilted his head back; without hesitation, he began blowing air into Kíli's mouth. Kíli's chest rose and fell with each breath that Thorin gave him, but every time he stopped to check his breathing, there was no movement. He tried again and again and again. Fíli gripped his head, digging his fingernails into his blonde hair, praying ever Khuzdul prayer he'd ever learned.

"Thorin, it isn't working," said Dís tearfully. "It just isn't working."

"No," Thorin said gruffly, feeling for a pulse again. "I will not give up on him while he still lives."

Dís sank to the floor and sobbed, but Thorin ignored her, determined to keep his youngest nephew. He blew more breaths desperately into Kíli's lungs, tears streaming down his own face now.

"Come on, Kíli!" he shouted, and he tried one more time. He stopped finally and stared at his young nephew, stricken, as his body remained still. A tear dripped from his chin, and he let out a heavy gasp of grief.

Fíli felt the world slowly moving away from him. Everything seemed to shrink, and only he and Kíli's motionless body remained. He tried to breathe in, but no breath would come. There was no breath – there was no air. Kíli was gone. There was nothing anymore. No air, no light, no warmth, no joy. Fíli knelt unmoving, his eyes fixed on the only thing that mattered.

And then a miracle happened.

Kíli let out a weak cough and inhaled lightly on his own. Then he took another breath. And another. The world flooded back into focus, and Fíli dropped his head onto the mattress and let out a shaky sigh of relief. Thorin touched his forehead to Kíli's, whispering thanks to Mahal. He kissed Kíli's damp hair and put a pillow under his head, turning him onto his right side. There was silence for a long time as the dwarves reined in their grief. Eventually, Fíli reached out and put a trembling hand on Kíli's burning temple.

"Will it happen again?" he said quietly.

"We will have to keep a constant watch over him," said Dís. She had risen from the floor and now stood beside her brother, who wrapped an arm around her and held her close. She sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes. She patted Thorin on the chest and pulled herself from his embrace.

"Now, why don't you two have some breakfast, and I'll clean him up?" she said, sitting down on the bed next to her youngest son. Thorin placed a comforting hand on her back as she stroked his dark hair, pushing strands off his forehead.

"Come, Fíli," Thorin said.

Fíli didn't want to leave his brother so soon after almost losing him, but he knew that his mother wished to have him to herself. He was her little boy, even after all these years – the baby. Though he had grown, she still knew exactly how to care for him, and care for him she would.

Still, he could not bring himself to stand and leave his brother's side. He reached out and took Kíli's hand; it felt unnaturally hot in his palm. Thorin reached out, uncurled his fingers from Kíli's, and took his shoulder, pulling him back. Fíli stumbled to his feet and allowed Thorin to take him out of the room, his heart caught between the lightness of relief and the heaviness of sorrow.


	7. Hope

**_A/N: To the Sherlockians – if a part of this chapter sounds familiar to you… know that it was mostly unintentional. I only realized the parallel after I wrote it, but you know what? It fits, so it stays._**

**_I also wanted to say that I appreciate all of the reviews that I get - I'm so pleased that you guys are reacting so strongly to this fic! It feels kind of cruel, but satisfying at the same time. I am especially proud that you guys are all saying that it seems realistic, which is something that I really worked on. Basically, everything that is happening in this story (save for the original arrow wound) has happened to me or someone close to me, so it's all drawn from real experiences. I think that helps. So if you're wondering if this could actually happen - it could._**

* * *

The next two days in the house were eerily quiet. After the seizure, Kíli simply would not wake. He was breathing and alive, but they could elicit no reaction out of him. He did not stir when Fíli changed his bandages, when Dís changed his bedclothes, or when Thorin sat with him, speaking Khuzdul healing spells and wiping his damp brow with a cool washcloth. No one spoke, because no one wanted to say what they all knew: Kíli's death was inevitable. His fever would not break, despite all their best efforts. If it rose too high again, they all feared that the next seizure would be the end.

Fíli's thoughts soon grew dark. He wished many things, cruel things, against himself. He wished that he could take Kíli's place – that he would die, so his brother might live. He wished that his brother, his perfect little brother, had not had to suffer this long. If Kíli was to die by his hand, he wished that it had been quick, not this terrible, long descent to death that sapped the life from the air itself. He wished that someone would yell at him, scream at him, punch him – just do something to him that he deserved. Maybe even kill him. He tried to push these thoughts away, but they bombarded him again and again.

Still, he wanted to have every living moment left with his brother that he could, conscious or not. Just to see him breathing, living, fighting. Dís and Thorin tried to get him to leave his brother's bedside, if only to eat or sleep, but Fíli would not abandon Kíli now. Sometimes Thorin or Dís joined him, and sometimes he was alone, but he refused to move.

It was sunset on the sixth day since Fíli had shot Kíli with the arrow on that crisp morning. Fíli's eyes were heavy with lack of sleep, and he had completely forsaken his hunger, allowing his stomach to growl and grumble with no mind to placate it. It had been hard to stay awake all day; he had dozed half a dozen times in the chair, but through it all, he was determined not to leave Kíli's side. Sleep could wait.

It was time to change Kíli's bandages again. Fíli hated doing it now. It always looked the same. Infected. There was never any change; Kíli's system just could not seem to shake it off. He lifted Kíli's slumbering frame, holding him by the back of the neck with his left hand and unwinding the bandage with his right. Then he laid him back down and dipped a clean cloth into the bucket of warm, soapy water that Dís had brought him. He prepared himself for the grisly image of his brother's wound with a deep breath and wrung out his cloth.

To his surprise, the wound was not releasing pus, as it had been for days. The skin around the arrow-wound was still red and tight, but nothing leaked from it, save for a small amount of clear liquid. A hope that Fíli didn't know still existed sparked in his chest – perhaps Kíli would survive this after all. His faith was small, but he clung to it fiercely.

He wiped around the wound gingerly, and then dipped the cloth back into the bucket. He wrung some water out over Kíli's side and watched his face hopefully. Before the seizure, when Fíli had done this, Kíli had screamed and fought as the water stung, and on several occasions, he had had to have Thorin come and hold him down. Now Kíli lay still. Even though the screams and the struggling had caused him anguish over and over, he would have preferred it to this silence.

He finished cleaning the wound and lifted his brother's dark head into the crook of his neck, wincing as he thought of the pain that should have radiated through Kíli's side, but the unconscious dwarf did not react. He wrapped a new bandage around Kíli's torso; he could see that his brother had lost weight on his already lean frame. They hadn't been able to get food in him in days, and Dís had grown more distressed every day that she was not able to feed him.

Finished, Fíli slid off the bed and knelt by the bedside, his face level with Kíli's. He tried not to allow too much hope, but wanted to all the same. The infection may have been clearing outwardly, but Kíli was still deep under and Fíli had no idea what may be going on below the surface. He took Kíli's limp hand into his own and touched the burning knuckles to his forehead.

"Kíli, I don't know if you can hear me in there, but if you can – please listen."

He waited for some response, anything, but Kíli remained still. Fíli could feel a lump developing in his throat.

"I need you here," he said, his voice thick. "We all do – but I really, really need you to live. So please, Kíli, for me – don't die. Can you do that for me, brother? Just one miracle, that's all I'm asking."

He lowered Kíli's hand and kissed it; the flesh was warm against his lips. He rested his cheek on his brother's fingers and closed his eyes, letting silent tears fall as he squeezed his hand.

And then, ever so faintly, he felt those fingers squeeze back.

Fíli's eyes flew open. He pulled back and stared at Kíli, searching for some indication of consciousness. He squeezed his hand again, hoping for another signal; nothing came, but his spark of hope had already ignited into a flame in his chest.

"Kíli?" he said hesitantly.

His brother's face held the same serene expression as it had the past two days. His eyelashes didn't even flutter. Fíli once again squeezed his hand, his heart pounding in his chest like a battering ram. To his great dismay, Kíli did not respond.

Something inside Fíli broke in that moment.

"Kíli!" he exploded, shaking his brother's hand. "Kíli, wake up, please, don't leave me here alone! Don't go... don't leave me."

Thorin flew into the room at this outburst. He ran to the bedside and put a hand on Fíli's shoulder.

"Is he—?"

"No, no, he's alive," Fíli said through his tears. "He squeezed my hand, Uncle. He's in there. He just needs to wake up." He shook and squeezed Kíli's hand again, and Thorin's grip on his shoulder tightened.

"Fíli, come away from there," he said in a low voice.

"Why?" Fíli said, holding tight to his brother's hand. "He might wake soon. He moved, Uncle. He _moved._"

"Fíli, you have been awake for two days," Thorin said. "You haven't eaten. You need rest and food… please come away."

"I can't, not now!" Fíli shouted. "Don't you understand? I can't leave him! He wouldn't leave me. He wouldn't. How could I do that to him?"

Thorin's strong hands wrapped around Fíli's, and he pried his fingers loose. Fíli fought against him, but Thorin was stronger than he. The older dwarf wrapped his arms around his nephew and pulled him up and out of the room; Fíli struggled against his grip.

"No! Let me be!" he shouted, but Thorin kept dragging him away. He finally broke free in the kitchen; before he could re-enter the bedroom, Thorin grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Fíli, you need to rest," Thorin commanded.

"Let me _go_," Fíli snarled, but his uncle had a tight grip on him.

"Let me or your mother be with him for a while," Thorin pleaded. "You're driving yourself mad. I don't want to lose both of my nephews. One is more than enough."

"You haven't _lost_ Kíli," said Fíli, finally wrenching his arm away and turning to face Thorin. "He's still alive. He's going to get better. He squeezed my hand, Uncle. I felt it."

Thorin's expression softened. He reached out to take Fíli's arm again.

"Fíli, you're imagining things," he said. "You need to sleep."

"I'm not _imagining_ things!" Fíli said, stepping away. "It happened! Why do you have no hope?"

"Because there is none!" Thorin bellowed.

Fíli stood aghast, shocked by Thorin's outburst. The old dwarf seemed to bend as if under a great weight, and his eyes looked worn with deep regret and pain. The two simply stared at each other in silence for a few moments.

A great rage then grew in Fíli's body, sending out electric signals to the ends of his fingers and the top of his head. He roared and leapt at his uncle, fists clenched – but he collided with Dís, who had been watching unseen by Fíli. She held him back, hugging him tightly to her with another display of shocking strength.

"Fíli, stop this," she said, but her words fell on deaf ears.

"How dare you!" Fíli screamed. "How dare you give up on him? You said you would not give up on him while he still lived! He's still alive, Thorin! He's _still alive!_"

Thorin backed into a chair and sat heavily; he hid his face in his hands and made no reply. Fíli let out another roar as he pushed at his mother's grip, but she held him fast. Thorin did not move.

"Fíli, please go rest," Dís said. "Don't do this. You need to take care of yourself."

"He's given up!" Fíli yelled. "At least I have faith! I won't give up on him! I won't let him die! I won't! You would let him die!"

"Enough," said Dís sharply, still holding her son back. "That is _enough_, Fíli. You have no right to speak to my brother that way. You will show him respect."

"I'll show him respect when he deserves it," Fíli spat contemptuously.

Without warning, Dís slapped Fíli hard across the face. He let out a shout, greatly surprised, and met his mother's deep blue eyes. They burnt with anger and grief as she looked hard at her eldest son.

"You have lost your hold on yourself," said Dís. "Would you let someone speak to Kíli the way you have spoken to my brother?"

Fíli felt heat rise in his face as he looked down, subdued.

"No," he said quietly.

"You will not speak that way to your elders, and you will especially not speak that way to my brother. We are all worried for him, Fíli. Do not take out your anger on Thorin."

_I'm not angry at Thorin,_ he wanted to say. _I'm angry at myself. This is my fault._ But his pride would not let him speak. He merely stared at his feet, silent. Dís looked back at her brother, who remained still.

"Now, please, Fíli, get some rest," she said, turning back to Fíli. "We will take care of your brother. You are not the only one who cares for him."

A sudden weariness came over Fíli then, and he dropped his head onto Dís's shoulder as the adrenaline rush faded away. He couldn't hold on to his anger any longer. He was too tired. His mother and Thorin were right – he needed to sleep, before his exhaustion really did drive him mad. He felt mad already.

"Come," said Dís, leading him down the hall to Thorin's room. Fíli resisted at first, but when she pulled again, he allowed her to lead him away. As he left the kitchen, he looked back at Thorin, who remained at the table, his face hidden in his hands as his broad shoulders shook with muffled sobs.


	8. Nightmare

**_A/N: Phew... I think this is the first chapter I've written that almost made me cry when I read it back to myself. I wish I could read my own writing the way that you guys can – it's so hard to have a reaction to something you've written yourself, but this chapter totally gave me a lot of feels. I wanted to put more into it, but I think what's going to happen next will be better if I put it into the next chapter._**

**_In case anyone is wondering about some of the background information in this chapter, it is taken from the appendices (I can't remember – either A or B) in the back of Return of the King. You can check out all sorts of great info there!_**

**_And lastly – before you read – I'm sorry. You'll see why. (Please read the whole chapter! Don't walk away :P)_**

* * *

Fíli stood at Kíli's bedside, frozen. He felt nothing – the air was temperatureless, tasteless, scentless. Everything had faded away. Everything except his Kíli.

Kíli was dead.

He looked peaceful, even in death. Though his injury had been great and his pain had gone on too long – it was over now. He now dwelt in the halls of his fathers, Thorin had said. He would be happy now.

But he wasn't _here_.

Fíli dropped to his knees, his grief taking his strength from him. He bowed his head under the weight of his pain, and a great wail rose within him, forcing its way out of his throat and tearing into the air. His face contorted as he sobbed uncontrollably, great sighs wracking his body; he covered his face with his hands and wept into them, soaking them with tears.

"Why did you kill me?"

Fíli's head shot up. He looked at his brother, whose body remained still. Fíli blinked and looked around him, but no one was there.

"Why did you kill me, Fíli?"

Fíli turned back to his dead brother, horror rising inside him. That was Kíli's voice. That was his Kíli's voice – but Kíli was dead.

"You betrayed me, brother."

An icy chill ran from Fíli's head to his toes as Kíli's cold lips moved. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Fíli ripped his eyes away from Kíli, searching for the source of the sound. He looked down; his insides coiled as he beheld the blood dripping from his palms. It bubbled up from nowhere, flowing down his fingers and puddling around his knees on the floor. His legs were already soaked in it. Fíli tried to scream, but his throat was stopped up; he began to choke, watching in horror as the blood poured from his hands.

"How could you do this to me, Fíli?" Kíli's dead lips said.

Fíli stared at him, trembling with terror. The puddle of blood spread under the bed. Fíli tried to speak, but no sound came from his mouth. He could not feel any air moving through his lungs at all; he opened and closed his mouth desperately with no result.

"Why?" Kíli wailed, but still only his lips moved. "Why? Why? Why?"

Fíli sobbed hysterically and put his bloody hands over his ears, trying to block out the sound. Red ran down his face and arms, drenching him as Kíli continued to wail.

"I'm sorry," he mouthed soundlessly, struggling for air. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Why?" Kíli wailed again. Fíli curled into himself, blood dripping from his nose and his elbows, and he screamed, but it wouldn't stop, it wouldn't stop, he couldn't breathe…

"Fíli!"

Fíli awoke with a gasp. It was dark, and his face was wet. He brought a hand up to his face tremblingly and wiped at the wetness, half-expecting to see blood, but it was only tears. He struggled to keep his composure, but his breaths came raggedly. He felt a hand on his back and rolled over, startled; Dís stood over him with a lantern, her brow furrowed with concern. As soon as she saw his face, she dropped the lantern on the side table, sat down, and pulled him into a tight hug. He clung to her desperately, whimpering. Neither said anything for a long time.

Finally, Fíli pulled away, sniffling. Dís stroked his hair softly, searching his eyes.

"Bad dream?" she said.

Fíli nodded, still incapable of speech.

"Oh, my precious child," she whispered, tucking a braid behind Fíli's ear. Fíli closed his eyes and let the motion soothe him. He wanted to speak, but he didn't want to remember the dream. The horror of it still gripped at his heart.

"Do you want to talk about it?" said Dís.

Fíli shook his head. All he wanted was to forget. He wanted to forget everything – the dream, the accident, the infection, the seizure. He wished it would all just go away. He took a heavy breath to stay the tears that sprung afresh in his eyes, feeling foolish. He was not a child, and yet he still acted like one – crying into his mother's embrace and having temper tantrums. He was too old for this.

"Kíli?" he said thickly.

"Shh," said Dís, stroking his cheek. "Don't worry yourself now. You need more sleep."

"How is he?" Fíli pressed.

"He hasn't changed. Your uncle is with him now."

"He asked me why I killed him," Fíli said suddenly, unable to hold it inside. Dís looked at him quizzically.

"He said I'd betrayed him. He was dead. I'd killed him. I'd betrayed him."

Dís looked at her son with deep compassion. He could meet her gaze for only a moment before he dissolved into tears once again. She pulled him back into her arms and stroked his blonde hair as he clung to her, sobbing.

"We cannot blame ourselves for accidents," she whispered into his ear. "We do not intend for them to happen."

"I don't know how to _not_ feel guilty," Fíli gasped. "He's my brother. I promised him that I would protect him."

"Sometimes, these things just happen, and we cannot avoid them," said Dís. She pulled away and looked him in the eye; he swallowed and took a deep breath as she wiped away his tears.

"Come, now," she said. "Stop thinking like this and get some rest."

"I just got some rest," Fíli protested.

"An hour's sleep with a nightmare is not rest," Dís said authoritatively. "I'll not have you falling ill. Now sleep."

Fíli could feel the weariness that still hung over him. He did want to sleep, but the thought of the nightmare reoccurring made him uneasy.

"I'll stay with you a while, if that would make you feel better," she said, sensing his hesitation.

Fíli sighed and buried his face in his mother's neck. She smelled of wood smoke and berries and soap, a familiar and comfortable scent. He breathed it in and tried to calm himself, holding her tight; for just a moment, he forgot the world, lost in his mother's embrace.

"Sleep," she said gently. He nodded and lay down wordlessly on his stomach, stuffing his face into his pillow. Dís rubbed his back in circles, humming; Fíli quickly fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

* * *

When Fíli opened his eyes again, daylight shone through the window, warming his skin and causing him to squint. He lifted his head from his pillow and inspected the room as his eyes adjusted to the light. He was alone. The house was silent.

Still feeling exhausted, he buried his face back in his pillow and closed his eyes, yawning. His head ached and throbbed and his eyes felt dry, even after so much sleep. Too much crying, he suspected. The thought embarrassed him. He had cried more this past week than he ever remembered crying before.

Suddenly, images of his nightmare flashed through his mind, and he curled up instinctively against the fear that gripped him. With horror he recalled Kíli's dead wails, the blood flowing from his hands… he tried to erase the images from his mind, but every time he closed his eyes, they returned.

He needed to check on Kíli. He knew that if anything had changed, someone would have come for him, but after his nightmare, he just needed to check. The picture of Kíli lying dead still burned in his mind. With a sigh, he threw off his covers and slid out of bed lazily.

Clean clothes had been laid across the chest at the foot of Thorin's bed. Fíli stared at them and contemplated putting them on, but he needed to see his brother – to see him alive. He walked past the clothes and opened the door, peering out into the hallway. No one was there. He crept into the kitchen and looked around, but no one was there, either.

Fíli opened the door to his and Kíli's room slowly and peeked inside. Dís sat on the side of the bed, stroking her younger son's hair silently. Fíli slipped into the room and shut the door behind him; Dís turned slightly as the door creaked.

"Thorin?" she said.

"No, it's me," said Fíli. He sank into the wooden chair at Kíli's side and took his warm hand. Though it was too hot, the heat comforted Fíli and allowed his mind to rest. Kíli was not dead… he was still alive. He was still fighting.

"Did you sleep well?" said Dís.

"I didn't have any more nightmares, if that's what you mean," he said. "But I still feel exhausted."

"Dísquiet in the heart will do that."

Fíli squeezed Kíli's hand gently, hoping for some response, but none came. He sighed and laid his brother's hand back down on the bed.

"Where's Thorin?" he asked.

"Asleep in the living room," said Dís. "He didn't want to disturb your rest."

Fíli cringed as he recalled his behavior towards his uncle the previous night. What had he been thinking? Clearly, he had not been in his right mind. Normally, he treated Thorin with the utmost respect and honor – and it was no less than he deserved. He was his elder and his uncle, not to mention a rightful king. He would have to apologize for his appalling actions.

"He understands your anger towards him," Dís said, as if she had read his mind.

"I'm not angry with him," Fíli said. "I was wrong to treat him so."

Dís turned her gaze to her elder son, smiling.

"I am glad that rest has done your mind some good, Fíli," she said, taking his hand. "But you were right."

Fíli searched his mother's eyes, perplexed.

"Talk to your uncle when he wakes," she said. "He wants to speak to you."

Fíli nodded, still confused. Dís turned back to Kíli and laid a hand on his chest. She closed her eyes and sighed heavily as Kíli remained still, save for his chest rising and falling. Fíli stood and put a hand on Dís's shoulder, and then headed for the door.

"Wash up and change into the clothes I laid out for you," she called.

"I'm thirty years old, Mum," he retorted with a smile.

"Thirty or a hundred and thirty, you're still my boy," she said. "Do as I say."

Fíli smiled softly. "Yes, Mum," he said, and he closed the door with a quiet _click_.

Perhaps a bath would relax him. His muscles still felt tense from stress, and he had been neglecting himself, which was very unlike him. Kíli was the one with wild hair and the occasional body odor – Fíli kept his hair braided and his face clean. Yes, a bath would do him good.

Half an hour later, Fíli was clean and dressed, and feeling quite refreshed, better than he had felt in days. He strolled into the kitchen, searching for some food; as he searched, he heard familiar bootsteps behind him. He froze.

"Fíli."

Fíli hesitated for a moment, and then turned to face his uncle. He stood awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

"Would you come sit with me?" Thorin said, gesturing to the living room. Fíli looked back at the food he had just gathered and then back to Thorin. He had fasted this long; he could wait a bit longer.

"Sure," he said, and he followed Thorin into the living room. They sat facing each other, and Thorin leaned back in his chair; Fíli sat rigidly, unsure of what to expect.

"Fíli, I need to apologize to you," Thorin said.

Fíli blinked, so shocked that he didn't know what to say. Thorin didn't apologize. He always believed himself to be right about everything – and he usually was. Fíli opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it again as he realized he had nothing to say.

"I was wrong to lose hope," Thorin continued when Fíli made no response. "When you said that Kíli had squeezed your hand, I thought it to be impossible. I shouldn't have doubted you, and I shouldn't have voiced my unbelief. Faith is all we have right now, and I spoke against it. I hope you can forgive me."

"Of course," Fíli said, more surprised than anything. He felt strange, offering forgiveness to his uncle, like something was out-of-place, but Thorin looked relieved.

"Thank you, Fíli," he said.

Fíli simply nodded. The all-too-familiar twist of guilt turned in his abdomen, and he blurted out, "I'm sorry, too, Uncle."

Thorin raised his eyebrows.

"I was disrespectful," he said. "I – I had no right to speak to you in that way."

"I understand, Fíli," Thorin said. "Even if there really is no hope - and I'm not saying there isn't - it is a terrible mistake to lose hope until the very end. I know the grief that comes from losing a brother, and I would that you do not go through what I did."

Fíli had forgotten that Thorin had lost his own brother. Frerin had died sixty years before he was even born; he had never seen Thorin's grief for his fallen brother. Now, Thorin's eyes filled with tears as he remembered. Fíli remained silent.

"He was five years my junior, just as Kíli is to you," said Thorin thickly. He looked down at his hands and took a deep breath. "And to lose him… at only forty-eight… and to that orc filth, no less." Bitterness filled his voice as he mentioned Azog's army. He looked back up at Fíli, his eyes shining.

"And Kíli is only twenty-five," he said. "No, Fíli. I would not have that grief put upon you. There is hope for Kíli yet, and I promise you that I will fight for his life – to any end."

"Do you really think there is hope?" Fíli said.

"The infection is fading," Thorin said. "His body is weak, but if we dedicate ourselves to his care, I believe he will mend in time."

Great hope blossomed in Fíli's chest at his uncle's words. Thorin offered him a small smile, and Fíli returned it tenfold. It was the first real hope he had had in days, and he clung to it tightly. Kíli would not die. He would make sure of it.

"Now, come – let's eat," said Thorin, rising from his chair. "You must be starving."

"Very much," said Fíli, and he rose from his seat as well. The two dwarves made their way back to the kitchen; Thorin clapped a hand on Fíli's back as he went by, and Fíli smiled again, his spirits rising higher and higher as his hope grew strong again.


	9. Words

**_A/N: First of all, I'd like to apologize to all the people who cried and/or walked away from their computers in distress after the beginning of the previous chapter. While your distress was definitely my intention (I know, I'm terrible), I hope I didn't turn you off to the story. I was a little worried when it got fewer reviews than usual, but that might have been because I posted it at three in the morning instead of one in the afternoon like I usually do. XD_**

**_For this chapter, there are a few things that I want to explain, but I don't want to spoil the chapter before you read it. Check the end of the chapter for some more notes from me!_**

**_One note that you'll need to know – Iglishmêk is Dwarven sign language. It's Tolkien's invention, not my own._**

* * *

Fíli sat once again at Kíli's side, impatient. The arrow-wound was closing and his fever was breaking, but he still remained unconscious and unresponsive.

He was worried for his brother's health. Aside from his unconscious state, he had not had food in five days or water in three. If he didn't wake soon, Fíli knew that dehydration could kill him as well as anything else. He sighed. It felt like as the days went by, they just exchanged one danger for another. He just wanted his Kíli back.

Dís entered the room with a bucket of warm soapy water and a clean cloth. Fíli looked up at her with tired eyes; she set down her burdens and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"It's time again already?" he said.

"You've been in here since lunch," Dís replied. "It's just about dinner time now."

Fíli sighed deeply and picked up the bucket, moving from the chair to the bed. He set the water on the bedside table and lifted Kíli's limp body into himself, unwrapping the old bandages quickly.

"Do you need help?" said Dís.

"No, I'm fine," Fíli said, laying Kíli back down and looking at him forlornly.

"He'll wake soon, Fíli," Dís said. "I'm sure of it."

"I miss him," said Fíli. He sucked in air suddenly, and then let it out, steadying his emotions. He looked up at Dís. "I haven't been this long without his voice and his smile since – well, since he was born."

"You weren't there when he was born," Dís said.

Fíli furrowed his brow, confused. "Yes, I was," he said. "I held him."

"That was much later. He was born two months early. Don't you remember staying with Balin and Dwalin?"

"I remember waiting at their home, but – how long?" Fíli said. In his fuzzy recollection, he had indeed spent time with Balin and Dwalin before Kíli was born, but it hadn't been that long.

"They watched you for a month," Dís said. "I was very ill, and Kíli was too little. We didn't want to scare you… or have a rambunctious five-year-old dwarfling in the way."

Fíli looked at his brother, surprised. How had he not known this before? He thought he knew everything about him.

"How did he survive?" he said.

Dís smiled fondly. "It was Thorin's idea," she said. "He was so little… Óin said he wouldn't survive the winter. He was born in January, as you know. But he wasn't supposed to be born until March. We feared that the cold would be the death of him. So your uncle wrapped him up in a blanket and put him on his knees, right in the woodstove to keep him warm. He sat there as long as he could take it… then your father did the same. They kept him in the stove at all hours, unless I was feeding him. They took shifts for weeks that way, and I helped when I was well enough. And he survived." She sat down and took Kíli's hand and kissed it. "My little miracle."

"Why don't I remember this?" Fíli said.

"We didn't tell you because we didn't want to scare you," said Dís. "And then… I guess it just never came up."

Fíli stared at Kíli in wonder. He had always known that Kíli had been littler than other babies, but in his young age, he had just assumed that he was meant to be that way. No wonder his mother had been so protective of him when they were small… Fíli had often been annoyed as a child that Dís wouldn't let him do "fun stuff" with the baby, but now, he understood why.

"But you see, Fíli – he's been a fighter from day one," Dís said. "He is strong. He will make it through." She rubbed Kíli's hand with her thumb and then stood up.

"I'll be preparing dinner," she said. "Come eat when you've finished."

Fíli nodded, still staring at Kíli. He heard the door click behind him and came back to himself – he had a job to do. He dipped the cloth in the bucket and washed the closing wound. Now was not the time to be careless and have the same mess happen all over again. After he had applied the ointment, he lifted Kíli again to wrap him in new bandages.

As he pulled Kíli into his chest, the younger dwarf suddenly let out a cry, and Fíli almost dropped him in surprise.

"Kíli?" he said breathlessly. He took Kíli's face in his hands and pulled him away from his chest, searching for some sign of consciousness. To his delight, Kíli opened his eyes, blinking slowly. Fíli let out a cry of joy.

"Can you hear me, Kíli?" he said as Kíli's eyes searched the room, unfocused. Fíli patted his face gently, and his brother turned his gaze slowly to meet his eyes. He let out a groan and furrowed his brow, then reached up to take Fíli's arm.

"Here, let me bandage you up again," Fíli said. "Lean against me."

Kíli dropped his head wordlessly onto Fíli's shoulder, and the older dwarf re-wrapped his torso in bandages. He laid him down gently; Kíli's face twisted in pain, then relaxed as he lay still. He looked at his older brother, his expression one that Fíli recognized as confusion.

"What's the matter?" Fíli said.

Kíli opened his mouth, then closed it, the look of bewilderment growing.

_I can't remember,_ Kíli signed in Iglishmêk.

"What can't you remember?" Fíli said, uneasiness rising in his stomach.

_Words,_ Kíli said with his hands.

Fíli's heart sank like a stone. Apparently, their troubles weren't over yet; but he hid his fear behind a smile for Kíli's sake. At least he was awake.

"Well, you just woke up," he said. "You've been asleep for three days. I'm sure it will come back to you."

Kíli nodded, his eyes wide, but it didn't seem to comfort him. He swallowed hard.

_Water,_ he signed.

"Of course," Fíli said, and he started up, but Kíli grabbed his arm.

_Don't leave me,_ Kíli said silently.

Fíli sat down and took Kíli's hand in his own. He smiled reassuringly at his anxious brother and pulled up the covers to keep him warm.

"Mum?" he called. "Come quickly."

Dís entered moments later, wiping her hands on her apron. As she beheld her younger son's open eyes, she let out a shout.

"Kíli!" she said, and rushed to his side. He smiled at her, though he still looked alarmed. She bent down and kissed his forehead; he closed his eyes and relaxed. He tugged at Fíli's hand urgently.

"He's thirsty, but he won't let me leave him," Fíli said.

Dís nodded. "I'll get you some water, love," she said, and left the room in a hurry.

"Here, let's sit you up," Fíli said. He put a hand behind Kíli's back, but his brother squirmed in protest.

"No," Kíli said, his voice weak with disuse. His expression cleared slightly – he looked pleased with himself for remembering a word.

Fíli removed his hands and looked at Kíli, confused. Kíli merely shook his head, then braced his hands on the bed and tried to push himself up, breathing heavily out of his nose as the movement pained him.

"Kíli, let me help you, please," Fíli said, feeling a dull ache in his own side as he witnessed his little brother's pain. Kíli glared at him defiantly, but let out a cry as the effort hurt him again. Fíli reached out and pulled him up, positioning pillows behind him so he could stay upright without much effort. Kíli leaned back into the support, his nostrils flaring as he looked away, embarrassed.

"Well, you seem to have your stubbornness back, at least," Fíli said with a smile. Kíli made a rude gesture, and Fíli laughed. It felt good to laugh – he felt as if he hadn't felt any joy in years, and now there was finally something to be happy about, even if the happiness was tainted with worry.

Dís entered the room with a cup of water and sat in the chair at Kíli's side.

"I've brought you water," she said, holding it out for him to take. He turned his head to look at her, then at the cup in her hand. She placed it in his hands, and he lifted it to his lips with some difficulty. He drank thirstily.

"Careful, now," said Fíli. "Don't make yourself choke."

Kíli gave him a Look that clearly said _shut up_, but he slowed his drinking. He finished slowly and lowered the cup, letting out a sigh and closing his eyes as the water washed through his system.

"How are you feeling?" said Dís.

Kíli opened his mouth to speak, but the words he wanted were lost. He looked to Fíli helplessly, visibly upset. Fíli swallowed his distress and offered him a smile.

"It's fine," Fíli said softly. "It'll come to you. Just use Iglishmêk."

"What's the matter?" Dís said to Fíli.

"He's… having difficulty remembering words," said Fíli. Dís looked from him to Kíli in alarm. "But he seems to be able to use Iglishmêk just fine."

_Head hurts,_ Kíli signed. _Everything hurts._

The twist of guilt that Fíli had almost forgotten returned with a vengeance. Kíli would not be in this condition if it were not for him. He grimaced as remorse coursed through him and tried not to bend under its weight.

"Fíli."

He opened his eyes to find Kíli's gaze upon him, his brown eyes tender. Kíli searched for the words to say, but none came; instead, he grabbed a hold of Fíli's sleeve.

"No," he said simply.

Fíli could feel his eyes filling with tears, and he took a deep breath to stay them. Dís looked back and forth between her sons, then stood up.

"I'll just finish dinner," she said. She stroked Kíli's arm and smiled softly, then left the room, closing the door behind her.

"Kíli, I'm so sorry," Fíli said, but Kíli tugged on his sleeve again and shook his head. His eyes brightened as he remembered a word.

"Accident," he said.

"Kíli, you almost died," Fíli said, his voice unsteady. "I watched you – you were shaking, and then you weren't breathing, Uncle almost couldn't get you breathing again…" He looked down and took another deep breath. "I was so scared, Kíli. I was _so_ scared. I've never been so scared in my entire life."

Kíli sat for a moment, thinking hard. Then, resorting to Iglishmêk, he said, _I don't want you to feel guilty. It was my idea to practice shooting. _

"Kíli—"

"No," Kíli said. _I told you to shoot the buck. I made you shoot when it bolted. If anyone is to blame, it's me._ He closed his eyes and leaned back into his pillows.

"Stupid," he said.

Fíli wanted to protest, to take all the blame on himself, but he knew that Kíli was right – Thorin had tried to tell him the same on the day of the accident. They had both been foolish. The twist in his stomach lessened as part of the burden of guilt lifted. It didn't go away completely – he wasn't sure if it ever would – but Kíli was alive. He wasn't angry with him, and he was on the mend. Fíli blinked, and a pair of tears fell from his eyes. He looked to Kíli, whose eyes were still closed.

"I'm just glad you're alive," Fíli said with a smile, but Kíli did not respond.

"Kíli?" Fíli said fearfully, taking his brother's hand. "Kíli, are you still awake?"

Kíli had slipped back into sleep and was once again unresponsive. Fíli let out a shuddering sigh and put a hand on his little brother's chest, closing his eyes and feeling the heartbeat pulse under his fingers.

Kíli was on the mend, but they had a long way to go yet.

* * *

**_Okay, here I am again! There are a couple of things that I think I need to explain, just so you understand what's going on._**

**_The story of Kíli's birth in this chapter is a true story that one of the ladies from my church told me the other day. Before people had babies in hospitals and premies were put in incubators, having a premature baby was pretty much a death sentence. However, there was a family whose child was born premature, and they made their own incubator by holding the baby on their knees with their knees IN THE WOODSTOVE (the cooler part, away from the fire) until the baby grew strong. That baby grew up and died at the age of 84. I thought it was pretty much the greatest thing ever and thought it fit Kíli perfectly for this story. So it's totally true. Cool, isn't it?_**

**_ALSO… In my research for this chapter, I looked up causes of coma and how people act when they come out of a coma. A single seizure usually does not cause a coma, but lack of oxygen to the brain certainly can… and that can cause brain damage. In my rendition of Middle-Earth, this is not common knowledge, but to us, it is, so I'll explain what's going on. What Kíli is experiencing is the effects of coming out of a coma. Things come back to people slowly, and some things have to be completely re-learned. I'm a linguistics major, and part of my study is in the language centers of the brain… what we were taught is that when someone loses their ability to use oral speech, they can still have the ability to use sign language, as there are different centers of the brain devoted to each. Since Tolkien did the COOLEST THING EVER and created a Dwarven sign language called Iglishmêk that seems to be common among the Dwarves, I decided to incorporate that so that Kíli can still have a way of communicating, though you can bet he isn't pleased about his inability to recall spoken language._**

**_Please review! I'm kind of obsessive about checking my e-mail to see what you guys have said! :P_**


	10. Battle

**_A/N: I tried sooooo hard to get this done last night, but AUGH! I'm not sure how much I like this chapter. I hope you like it._**

**_I didn't put Thorin in the last chapter, and now I'm regretting it because Thorin's reaction to Kíli's awakening wouldn't fit well in this chapter. I'm sorry to be so disappointing, but I'm about as grouchy as Kíli is in this chapter at the moment and I don't want to write the scene. Just imagine it all sweet and d'aww and sentimental. Maybe Thorin cried a few man tears. Or dwarf tears? Dude, I was exhausted beyond belief 20 hours ago. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. I'm running on no sleep at all and I only stayed up to finish this. Going to sleep now. Just so you guys know how much I love you._**

**_Hopefully this chapter is more coherent than I am. I apologize for the quality if it's not, and I promise the next chapter will be better. GOD I NEED TO SLEEP._**

* * *

_Crash._

Fíli cringed as another piece of pottery broke behind the door of his and Kíli's room.

"We're going to run out at this rate," Thorin said, not bothering to look up from his stew.

Dís stormed out of the bedroom, muttering to herself. Fíli caught the words "petulant" and "unreasonable" as she stalked outside with pieces of another broken bowl. He looked up to Thorin, who was fighting a smile.

"Do you want to, or shall I?" Fíli said.

Thorin shoved another spoonful of stew in his mouth. "It's your turn," he said.

Fíli sighed and set down his spoon. He stared at Thorin, hoping to catch his gaze, but he was intently focused on his stew. He stood slowly and stretched, trying to delay the confrontation as much as possible.

"Better get in there before your mother does," Thorin said.

Fíli dropped his arms and groaned, but he turned and made his way into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Kíli sat fuming on the bed; he was trying to look angry, but Fíli could see his jaw working as he held back tears.

"Kíli."

"No," Kíli said, refusing to look at him. It had become his favorite word lately, as it was one of the only ones he could remember.

Fíli sank into the chair at the bedside and leaned back, studying his brother. Kíli adamantly avoided his gaze, his jaw working overtime now. Fíli looked around the room; bits of meat and potato clung to the far wall, and the thick broth had left a dripping stain.

"Nice throw," he said.

Kíli remained silent and unmoving.

"That must be… three bowls now?" he continued. "Uncle thinks we're going to run out."

He smiled slightly at Kíli, but still his brother ignored him. Fíli noticed a tear making its way down his cheek, and his heart surged with sorrow and compassion. He wished he could make everything better, but he couldn't.

"Kíli, it's only been a day," Fíli said. "It'll come back to you."

_I can't even hold a spoon_, Kíli signed ferociously. He angrily wiped away his tears and tried to take a deep breath, but his injured lung stopped him; he cried out and clutched his chest, forgetting his frustration as he struggled to breathe. Fíli jumped up, concerned, but Kíli waved him off as he took lighter breaths and relaxed. Fíli sat back down.

"We're here to help you, you know," he said softly. "We just want to help."

_I don't_ want_ help,_ Kíli signed. _I want to do things myself._

"Well, you've got to start somewhere," Fíli said.

"Fíli," Kíli said suddenly. He struggled to find the words he desired, but they evaded him once again.

"I…" he said, but nothing else came. A shadow passed over his countenance as he grew even more frustrated.

"Why don't you sign it?" Fíli suggested.

"No!" Kíli burst out, then he winced as his lung punished him for it. He slouched down into his pillows, looking dejected.

_I'm useless,_ he signed.

"Now, stop that," Fíli chided. "You can't think that way."

_But it's true. I can't do anything on my own. I'm a burden._ Another tear fell; he wiped it away quickly and turned away, embarrassed.

"You're not a burden to us," Fíli said, vexed with Kíli's melancholy. Kíli didn't respond, and Fíli sat in silence, unsure of what to say. Kíli picked at his fingernails.

"Can you do one thing for me, at least?" Fíli said finally.

Kíli turned his head slightly, but didn't meet Fíli's eyes.

"Don't break any more of Mum's dishes. You're driving her mad."

Kíli looked down and smiled, and Fíli chuckled.

_It's easier to throw them than to use the spoon,_ Kíli signed.

"Yes, but we can _help_ you use the spoon," Fíli said, but Kíli shook his head vehemently. The older dwarf sighed.

"Kíli, you need to eat, even if you can't do it yourself."

All Fíli got in return was an especially belligerent glare. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger and closed his eyes, exasperated. He tried to think of other things he could say to convince him, but he and Thorin and Dís had already tried everything from begging to bribes, and still Kíli remained defiant. Thorin had even tried forcing Kíli to eat, but all that had resulted from that was a furious uncle with oatmeal dripping from his hair and his beard. Fíli was still surprised that Kíli had survived that one.

He felt like his frustration was strangling him. He didn't know what to do now. He was ready to give up this time, but he knew from twenty-five years of experience that the longer he let Kíli win, the harder it would be to turn the tide back in his favor. He needed to break through, and he needed to do it fast.

Fíli got up from his seat and crawled onto the bed. Kíli watched him warily as he sat down next to him, pulling a couple of his own pillows behind himself to lean on. The brothers now sat shoulder-to-shoulder, as they had often done when they were in confidence with each other as children.

"I don't want you to die, Kíli," he said softly. He turned his head to look at his brother; Kíli was staring at him, confused.

"I…" Kíli paused. _I'm not dying._

"You've been very ill, and you haven't eaten in six days, Kíli. Don't tell me you can't feel the effects of that."

At Fíli's words, a little bit of the defiant exterior Kíli had been wearing fell off. He slumped into his pillows and nodded.

"Why won't you eat, Kíli?"

_I want to do it myself, but…_ Kíli stopped. _I can't._

"I said I would help you," Fíli said.

"No," Kíli said vehemently. He winced, and a whimper escaped from his throat. Fíli eyed him dubiously.

"Are you in pain?" he said gently.

Kíli tried to keep his composure, but his shifting jaw betrayed him. He nodded again.

"How much pain are you in?" Fíli said.

Suddenly, Kíli burst into tears.

Fíli, though surprised at the sudden breakdown, gingerly pulled his little brother into a hug. Anguish rolled in his chest; he felt as if his heart would burst.

"I know you want to protect your dignity, but pride is no good if you're dead," Fíli whispered. "Please let me help you."

Kíli let loose a shuddering sigh into his brother's shoulder and nodded. Fíli smiled. He had won. He held Kíli for a few more moments as he wept, then pulled back. Kíli struggled to compose himself.

"I'm going to get some more stew," he said. "Will you be all right?"

Kíli nodded, defeated. Fíli lifted the younger dwarf off of himself; Kíli's face twisted at the movement. Fíli laid him back against his pillows, slid off the bed, and made for the door.

"I'll be right back, Kíli," he said.

Thorin looked up as Fíli closed the bedroom door behind him.

"Did it work?" he said.

Fíli nodded and busied himself obtaining a bowl of stew.

"Good," said Thorin. Fíli could hear the surprise in his voice. "What did you say to him?"

Fíli set down the bowl and turned around to face his uncle. He rubbed his beard dolefully and sighed.

"He's in a lot of pain, Uncle," he said in a low voice. "All I did was ask him how much pain he was in, and he started crying."

Thorin's expression softened. He looked to the closed door.

"Poor lad," he said.

"I've just convinced him to allow me to help him eat. I'm not sure how long the humility will last, but it's progress."

Thorin smiled. "He's too much like his uncle," he said. "Too proud for his own good, but too stubborn to do something about it."

"I think that just makes him a dwarf," Fíli said with a grin.

Thorin nodded, smiling fondly. "That it does."

Fíli picked up the bowl of stew and a spoon. "Wish me luck," he said, and he re-entered the bedroom.

"I've brought dinner," he said as he walked in. He shut the door with his foot and looked up at Kíli, and almost dropped the bowl in alarm. Kíli was curled up into a ball, his eyes shut tight and his teeth gritted. Fíli ran to his side and set down the stew carefully.

"Kíli, are you all right?" he said frantically.

Kíli shook his head. "Fíli," he said desperately, clutching his injured side. He let out a moan that tore through Fíli painfullly.

"I don't know what's happening," Fíli said. "Can you tell me?"

Kíli opened his mouth to speak, but he had no words. His hands were occupied holding his side.

Fíli took a deep breath to calm himself. "Would it help if you could sit up?" he said. Kíli nodded.

Fíli stepped into action and pushed his brother's shoulders back into the pillow. Once Kíli was leaning back, he took hold of his legs and straightened them out. Kíli grunted, but did not resist; within a few seconds, Kíli relaxed, though his brow was still furrowed in pain.

_Thank you,_ he signed, panting.

"What in Durin's name was that, Kíli?" Fíli said, his heart pounding.

Kíli lifted his hands to sign, then dropped them at his sides, exhausted.

"Hurt," he managed to say.

"I can tell it hurt, but what happened?" Fíli said.

Kíli shook his head. He rested for a moment, then lifted his hands again.

_It always hurts. Sometimes it's worse._

"Like an attack?" Fíli said.

Kíli nodded. _It's hard to stay still when it happens,_ he signed._ I get stuck curled up._

Fíli eyed his brother critically. _When it happens_, he repeated in his head.

"This isn't the first time this has happened, is it, Kíli?"

Kíli shook his head, avoiding his brother's critical gaze. Fíli sighed and rubbed his beard wearily.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he said.

_I didn't want to make you feel worse,_ Kíli signed.

Fíli bowed his head and rubbed his temples. He did indeed feel worse, but he wasn't going to tell Kíli that. Not if he was hiding this much pain from him. He forced his expression to be blank and looked up again.

"Never mind," he said. "Are you in too much pain to eat?"

Kíli eyed the spoon sitting in the bowl of soup warily.

"Don't lie," Fíli warned.

Kíli shot him a Look, but he shook his head.

"All right, then," said Fíli, and he placed the bowl on Kíli's lap. Kíli gripped the spoon clumsily and lifted it, pouring its contents back into the bowl. He grunted in frustration and tried again with the same result.

Fíli took the spoon from Kíli and dipped it into the bowl. He held it out for his brother, but Kíli just stared at it, indignant.

"Kíli, you need to eat," Fíli said. Still, Kíli stared. Fíli sighed and took Kíli's hand; he placed the handle in his grip and guided the spoon to his mouth. Kíli reluctantly ate.

"Good," Fíli said. "Now, again." He guided Kíli's spoon back into the bowl and brought it to his mouth, and Kíli took another bite, his face burning with mortification. They worked together several more times before Kíli suddenly threw the spoon across the room.

"No!" he said, his face a deep crimson. Before Fíli could stop him, he knocked the bowl off of his lap. It clattered to the floor, spilling stew everywhere.

"By Durin, Kíli, you would think you were a child!" Fíli exclaimed. Kíli stared straight ahead, fuming and clearly deeply embarrassed. Fíli sighed and looked down at the mess.

"Well, at least the bowl didn't break," he said.

"Get," Kíli said.

Fíli looked up at his brother, who appeared to be thinking quite hard.

"What?" he said.

"Get… out."

"Kíli—"

"Get out," Kíli repeated, proud of his sentence, but still burning with shame.

"Can I just—"

"Get out! Get out! Get out!" Kíli said, gaining volume with each repetition.

Fíli had had enough. "Fine," he snapped. He stood up and left the room, slamming the door behind him. Thorin peered in from the living room, his visage annoyingly stoic.

"Next time, it's your turn," Fíli growled. "I'm going for a walk."

"Fíli—"

"Not now!" Fíli shouted. He grabbed his coat from its peg and stomped out the front door, slamming it behind him. He felt tears building in his eye as he walked away, but he blinked them back, refusing to cry.


	11. Forgiveness

**_A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my lovely reviewers, Scarlett's Fics and Cockapoo. They helped me quite a bit – how much, they probably didn't even know. I hope this chapter is to your liking! Bless you for all of your help. I am eternally grateful to you._**

**_I can't wait until you see what the future holds – but until then, enjoy this chapter with all its brotherly fluff, flavored with a good bit of angst. I hope you like it. I wrote it on no sleep again… I've got to stop doing this!_**

* * *

Fíli stepped into the warm kitchen and shut the door behind him quietly. He closed his eyes and breathed out, glad to be out of the biting wind.

"Where have you been?"

Fíli peered out into the dim room and noticed Dís sitting by the dying fire. He hung up his coat on its peg with a sigh.

"Walking," he said. "Thinking."

"You've been gone for hours," she said.

"I had a lot of thinking to do," Fíli replied.

Dís nodded, seemingly satisfied with this answer. He made his way to her side and stooped down to kiss her on the cheek; she took his hand, and he squatted beside her. She stroked his face and smiled sadly.

"I was worried about you," she said quietly.

"I'm fine," Fíli said.

"No, you're not," she said. "I see the weight you carry."

Fíli started to protest, but she interrupted him.

"No, Fíli… you can't fool your mother. I can see how guilty you feel. I know you." Her mouth pulled into a frown. "I know that we can never convince you that you are not to blame, no matter how many times we say it. So please, Fíli… if you cannot stop blaming yourself, at least try to forgive yourself."

Fíli swallowed hard as his mother spoke right to the quick of his heart. He remembered back to days before, in the woods, when he had told himself that he could never do as his mother had asked; but he hated to hurt her. For her sake, he would do what he could, or at least pretend to.

"I'll try, Mum," he said.

"Good." She stroked his face once more, then wrapped her shawl tight around herself and stood. "Your brother has been asking for you."

Fíli stood as well and looked to the closed door. "Has he?"

"Since you left."

The twist of guilt in Fíli's stomach turned again. He had treated Kíli so poorly when he was in so much pain. What kind of brother was he? He had gravely injured him, and then he had grown angry with him when the injury that he had caused made him lash out in his pain. He closed his eyes and grimaced, ashamed.

"Remember what I said," Dís scolded.

Fíli nodded faintly, lost in thought. Dís sighed and withdrew to her room, leaving him alone by the fire. He stood for a moment, then drew up his courage and made his way to the door of his and Kíli's room. As he approached, he heard Thorin's voice rumbling through the wood. He paused and listened.

"…must let us help you," Thorin said. "We are not aiming to humiliate you."

There was silence, and Fíli assumed that Kíli was signing his response.

"If you can do it yourself, we will let you, of course, but if you cannot, there is no shame in it, Kíli. You were gravely injured, and then you were deathly ill. You cannot help that."

Fíli opened the door quietly and peeked in; Kíli was signing furiously.

_I could have helped it,_ he was signing. _I was foolish. I stepped into Fíli's path. I told him to shoot when I was in his way. This is my fault._

Fíli was met with a surge of sorrow as he realized that Kíli felt just as much blame as he did himself. But in Fíli's guilty mind, Kíli could hold no fault, even when he claimed it.

"It doesn't matter who is to blame," Thorin said sharply. "What matters is that you are alive and on the mend. Now stop this obstinacy."

Kíli lay silent, his jaw shifting.

"Fíli," he said finally.

"He'll be back," Thorin said. "Be patient."

"Actually, I'm already here," Fíli said, opening the door wider. Thorin turned around and smiled warmly at him, though his eyes flashed; Kíli's face lit up.

"Fíli!" said Kíli happily. Thorin put a hand gently on Kíli's shoulder and then stood; he walked over to Fíli and nodded calmly.

"I need to speak to you," he said in a low voice. Fíli looked over his uncle's shoulder to Kíli, who was looking at him hopefully. He nodded, turning his gaze back to Thorin.

"I'll be right back, Kíli," he said.

Kíli slumped back into his pillows, disappointed. Fíli felt a pang of regret as he followed his uncle out of the room; Thorin closed the door behind them and turned to face his older nephew.

"Where did you run off to?" he growled.

Fíli looked down at his feet. "I just needed to… get away. To think," he said.

"Your brother has been asking for you for hours," Thorin said sternly. "He wouldn't let us near him. This was the first time he's let me talk to him since you left – he was very upset at your going."

An anger rose in Fíli at his uncle's words; he wanted to defend his actions, to argue that he needed time alone. But then a humility also rose in him – one that said that his responsibility was not to his own selfish wants and desires, but to be there for his brother in his time of need.

"I'm sorry, Uncle," he said. "I should have come back sooner."

Thorin looked him over sharply, then relaxed his gaze.

"Well, never mind that," said Thorin. "You're here now. Go to him. He wants you to stay with him tonight."

Fíli looked up at his uncle. "Will that be all right?" he said.

"He's in no danger with you. He would probably benefit from your company," Thorin said. "I fear that his pain is worse than he lets on, but he is too proud. See if you can get to him."

Fíli nodded. "I'll try," he said.

Thorin clapped a hand on his shoulder, then headed off to his own room. Fíli took a deep breath and opened the door; Kíli lay facing away from him.

"Hey," he said. Kíli turned his head towards him and smiled.

"Fíli," he said happily. He tried to turn back towards the door, but his face twisted up as he moved his torso.

"Don't," Fíli said quickly. "Hold on." He made his way to the bed and climbed on, laying facing his brother. Kíli leaned into his pillows, despondent; Fíli smiled gently, and Kíli returned the smile halfheartedly.

"I hear you were asking for me," Fíli said.

Kíli nodded forlornly. "I'm sorry," he said. Fíli raised his eyebrows. He could tell from the look on his brother's face that he had spent the better part of the past few hours trying to remember those words.

"What are you sorry for?" he said.

Kíli searched for the words, but once again, he was left voiceless. He reluctantly raised his hands to sign. _I was embarrassed. I took it out on you. It's not your fault._

"I'm sorry," he said again.

Fíli fought against the part inside him that said _Yes, it is my fault._ He had seen that Kíli blamed himself just as much, and his mother's words rang in his head: _If you cannot stop blaming yourself, at least try to forgive yourself._ Perhaps that was what Kíli needed, as well.

"It's fine, Kíli. I understand," he said. "I forgive you."

Kíli's countenance lightened at Fíli's words, and he smiled. _Will you stay here tonight?_ he signed.

"If that's what you'd like," Fíli said.

Kíli nodded vigorously, his eyes wide, and Fíli chuckled at his childish expression. His brother had missed him. He didn't blame him – Kíli had spent very few nights without him since he was big enough to sleep in a real bed. Sleeping without his presence must have been strange and uncomfortable, especially when coupled with the discomfort he was in.

"Well, then, that's what I'll do," he said.

After Fíli had gotten himself ready for bed, he helped Kíli recline into a horizontal position – assistance to which Kíli reluctantly acquiesced – and lay down. The two brothers talked for a long time about anything and everything: Fíli with his voice, and Kíli with his hands. Fíli almost felt normal. If Kíli had been able to speak, he might have forgotten that anything bad had happened at all.

Eventually, their conversation slowed, and Fíli drifted off to sleep, feeling better than he had in a week.

* * *

Fíli was awakened later that night by a low moan coming from beside him. He opened his eyes and looked to his brother, who was once again curled into a ball, his eyes squeezed closed against the pain. Fíli leapt up in an instant and set to work straightening his brother's body out; Kíli cried out softly as Fíli turned him onto his back and lifted him, pulling pillows together to put behind him. Kíli clung to him, and when the older dwarf moved to lay him back down, he shook his head, holding tight to his big brother.

"No," he breathed, gripping at Fíli's arms in a feeble attempt to pull himself closer.

Fíli sat down and pulled Kíli in closer to himself, wrapping one arm as tightly as he dared around him and holding his head with the other. Kíli hummed a long, wavering note as he fought the pain and buried his face in Fíli's neck.

"Is there anything I can do?" Fíli said.

"No," Kíli said. "It never stops."

Fíli was impressed with the full sentence that came out of Kíli's mouth, but now was not the time to applaud him for it. He was more concerned with what it meant.

"Even earlier? When we were talking?" he said as remorse began to burn in his belly. Kíli nodded silently, and the feeling in his abdomen burned harder. He wrapped his arms a bit tighter around his little brother as a lump rose in his throat.

"I'm so sorry, Kíli," he whispered. Kíli began to shake his head, but Fíli spoke again before he could contradict him.

"No, Kíli," he said. "I am sorry. I can't not feel guilty about this… I just can't. I am so, so sorry. Please just say that you forgive me."

"I forgive you," Kíli said immediately.

Fíli's heart lifted at those words, and he put all of his energy into his embrace, holding on to his brother as if he were the most precious thing in the world. And to him, he was. He was his Kíli, and he was alive, and he forgave him. For the moment, that was all he needed.

Kíli finally lost all resilience against the pain and began to sob into Fíli's shoulder, gasping wretchedly as each breath and each cry hurt him even more. Fíli held him close, feeling his little brother's body shake, and wished there was more that he could do.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," he whispered. "Stop this crying, Kíli – you're only making it worse. Be strong."

Kíli clutched at the back of Fíli's shirt and gasped heavily as he attempted to calm himself. After some time, Kíli managed to quiet down, and Fíli moved to lay him back against his pillows. The younger dwarf hung on to him, reluctant to let go. Fíli pried him off and laid him down gently.

"Try to sleep," he said, and Kíli nodded and obediently closed his eyes. Fíli sighed and laid back down on his own side of the bed. Though he was exhausted, he lay with his eyes open, watching his brother closely. He had known that Kíli was in pain, but until that moment, he had not realized how much.


	12. Sleep

**_A/N: Hey babes! I'm all snowed in up here in the Northeast, so a new chapter for you! Don't worry, I'm fine, and I've got power. _**

**_Special thanks to tigressimmi and Cockapoo for their help with this chapter! My dear Immi helped me sooo much with this... I felt like I had lost my way and forgotten how to write, and she put me back on the path to good writing! She is super awesome. And I still felt insecure about this chapter - I didn't think it was any good - but Cockapoo gave it a good look over and reassured me! Both of you are darlings, and I love you._**

* * *

Fíli opened his eyes. The room was dim; the fire burned low, and the pale morning sun filtered in through the window, mixing with the orange glow of the flames. He lifted his head and looked to Kíli instinctively. Two dark brown eyes stared back at him, barely catching the daylight.

"Morning," he said.

Kíli's eyes darted downward. He fiddled with the corner of his pillowcase and made a soft, noncommittal noise.

"Did you sleep well?" Fíli prodded, longing for a _yes._

Instead, Kíli shook his head slowly, his eyes still downcast. Fíli's heart sank as his hopes were dashed before he studied his brother's appearance.

Dark circles had formed under Kíli's already dark eyes, and days of illness and pain had left him thinner than before, giving him an aged appearance beyond his few years. His chest rose and fell too lightly; with each deeper breath, he winced and let out a short puff of air from his nose. His features hung haggardly, worn and weary, as if he had seen far too many battles for his time, though he had seen none.

"…did you sleep at all?" he breathed, his chest tightening as he guessed the answer.

Kíli pulled a feather from his pillow and examined it with unfocused eyes; once again, he slowly shook his head. The peace that had settled in Fíli's heart the night before dissipated; instead, his heart wrenched as he saw once again how damaged Kíli was.

"It's the pain, isn't it?" he said softly.

Kíli slowly closed his eyes, his brow furrowing.

Pity and regret gnawed at Fíli's insides. "Perhaps Óin has something," he suggested. "For the pain. or even a sleeping draught. I can go to him and ask."

"Please," Kíli said quietly.

Without a moment's hesitation, Fíli hopped out of bed and began to dress quickly. Kíli lay silent and languid, his expression tight. When Fíli had dressed, he sat at Kíli's side and laid a hand on his shoulder, and the younger dwarf slowly opened his shadowed eyes. The depth of suffering in those eyes ripped at Fíli's torn heart.

"I'll be back soon as I can," he said. Kíli simply closed his eyes again, and Fíli left his side and made his way out of the room. He pulled his coat off its peg and opened the front door.

"Where are you going?"

Fíli turned around to see his mother sitting at the table, a cup of tea in her hands.

"I'm going to ask Óin for something for Kíli," he said.

Dís frowned. "Is it that bad?"

Fíli paused as the gnawing feeling in his gut grew, eating away at his words. He simply nodded.

Dís traced the edge of her teacup with her thumb. "Then do what you can for him, Fíli," she said.

It took all of Fíli's strength to offer his mother half a smile before he walked out the door.

Fíli walked briskly; the wind blew against him and chilled him quickly, and he was eager to be back in the warmth, but more so, he was eager to get back to Kíli with something that would ease his torment. He reached Óin's home shortly and knocked on the door.

From inside, Fíli could hear the _thump-thumping_ of someone running to the door. He wondered who it could possibly be – surely Óin would not be in such a rush. He never seemed to be in a hurry for anything.

The door swung open suddenly, but Fíli didn't see anyone – until he looked down. A young dwarfling, about ten years old, stood in the doorway, scrutinizing him. Fíli raised his eyebrows, surprised.

"Hello, Gimli," Fíli said.

"Hello," Gimli replied. He stood in the doorway and did not move. Fíli stood awkwardly in the biting wind.

"May I come in?" he said. "I need to see your uncle."

Gimli opened the door further and stepped out of the way; Fíli slipped in, and Gimli slammed the door behind him. He ran down the hallway and banged on one of the doors.

"Uncle!" he shouted. "Mister Fíli is here! He needs to see you."

"All right, all right," Óin said from behind the door. "Half a moment!"

After a few seconds, Óin stepped out of the room, wrapping a sweater around himself. He looked down the hallway and smiled warmly at Fíli.

"Hello, Master Fíli," he said.

"I hope I didn't wake you," Fíli said. "I didn't even think of the hour. It's just that – it's very important. Sort of an emergency."

"No, no, I was already awake," Óin said. He put a hand on Gimli's shoulder. "There's no sleeping in when this lad is visiting. Go on, Gimli, go find something to do."

Gimli ran off to another room, leaving the two older dwarves to themselves. Óin made his way down the hallway in his own time.

"I assume you're here about your brother," said Óin. "How is he?"

Fíli swallowed his anguish and assumed as calm a demeanor as he could. "The infection has faded," he said. "And his fever has abated. We were worried for him, but he pulled through."

"Good, good," said Óin. "He is a strong, stubborn lad. I didn't doubt him. What is it I can do for you?"

"I was wondering if you had anything for Kíli – for the pain," Fíli said. "He's in a bad way… he can't even sleep. I think he's at wit's end." Fíli rubbed his forehead. "He's got us at wit's end."

"I can give you a sleeping draught," Óin said. "I'd give you some laudanum, but it can make breathing more difficult."

"I think a sleeping draught will help him," said Fíli.

"Right, then… let's see," said Óin as he made his way to his cabinets. He searched through several until he found the bottle he was looking for, and handed it to Fíli.

"That should put him out," he said. "If it doesn't, we'll try the laudanum – but I'd rather give this a try first."

Fíli looked at the unlabeled bottle and swirled its contents. A dark red liquid whirled slowly inside; the contents were very thick and clung to the glass.

"It tastes awful," Óin quipped. "Make sure he takes enough."

"How much is enough?" said Fíli, eyeing the contents warily.

"A couple of spoonfuls," said Óin.

Fíli swirled the bottle again, then put it in his pocket. "Thank you," he said. "Is there anything I can—"

"Oh, no, no, not for you, Master Fíli," said Óin. He smiled. "You're family. No charge for my cousins. Especially not the heirs of Thorin Oakenshield."

Fíli bowed respectfully. "Thank you very much," he said. "For all of your help."

Óin dipped his head in return. "I'll visit tomorrow to see how he is doing. I want to check on those stitches."

"Then I shall see you tomorrow," said Fíli. "I'd better get back with this, before Kíli breaks something again."

Óin chuckled. "He's always been strong-willed, even from his first days," he said. "Better hurry, lad."

Fíli bowed again and saw himself out.

* * *

"Kíli, lad, one more," said Thorin, holding out a spoonful of the viscous red liquid.

Kíli glared obstinately at his uncle, his eyes ringed with blue in his weary state. Óin had not been exaggerating when he had said that the medicine tasted awful. After the first spoonful – which had taken a while to convince Kíli to take, given that he could not hold the spoon himself – Kíli had actually retched, which had pained him greatly. Thorin moved the spoon closer to Kíli's lips, and Kíli turned his head to the side. With an exasperated sigh, Thorin lowered his hand.

"I'm not enjoying this either, Kíli," he said through gritted teeth. "Take the damned medicine and just get it over with."

"Kíli, it will help you sleep," Fíli said. "Just take it quickly."

Kíli looked from his uncle to his brother with raised eyebrows, unyielding.

"I'll force your mouth open," said Fíli.

Kíli eyed him suspiciously, and Fíli could see that he was trying to gauge how serious he was. He tried to look as serious as possible, though he had no plans of following through – if he actually did try to force Kíli's mouth open, it would not end well for either party.

"Kíli, please," said Thorin. "Don't make this a battle."

_I want to do it myself,_ Kíli signed.

Thorin and Fíli exchanged looks, and Fíli shrugged.

"We have more if he spills it," he said.

Thorin held out the handle for his nephew to take; Kíli gripped it weakly, and if it were not for the viscidity of the medicine, it surely would have spilled. He brought it to his mouth and managed to take and swallow the offensive liquid without retching again, though he clearly did not enjoy it, scowling as the foul taste stained his tongue.

"Good," said Thorin. He took the spoon from Kíli's hand and left the room, leaving Kíli glowering in his wake. After Thorin had gone, Fíli sat down on the bed, facing his brother, who sank into his pillows despondently.

"It'll come back to you," Fíli said.

_You've said that a thousand times, but nothing is coming back,_ Kíli signed.

"That's not true," said Fíli. "You just used a spoon yourself, and you were speaking sentences last night. I'd say that's progress."

Kíli shrugged. He seemed determined to be in a bad mood.

"Shall I stay with you?" Fíli pressed. "Until you fall asleep."

"No," said Kíli. "I… want to sleep. Now."

Fíli grinned proudly. "See? You're doing well," he said. The corners of Kíli's mouth curled up involuntarily. Fíli patted his knee and got up.

"I'll leave you to sleep, then," he said. "I'll be back later."

Kíli closed his eyes and relaxed, though his haggard face still showed a shadow of pain. Fíli swallowed his heartache and closed the door, silently wishing his brother all the rest he could get.

When Fíli checked on Kíli an hour later, he was dismayed to find him still awake.

"Why are you still up?" Fíli said. "You should be asleep by now."

Kíli's head lolled in Fíli's direction. The corners of his mouth turned down miserably; he brought his hands up to sign, his fingers curling involuntarily.

_I can't sleep,_ he signed. _I can't breathe. It hurts._

"That draught should have put you out," Fíli said. He sat on the side of the bed and looked closely into Kíli's eyes; instead of the sharp, quick look they usually had, they rolled in his head and seemed glazed over. His movements were even more slow and sluggish than they had been an hour ago. He was clearly feeling the effects of the potion, though it had not taken effect the way that it was supposed to.

"Did you try to sleep?" he said.

Kíli nodded sluggishly. He started to yawn, then winced as the intake of breath was greater than his injured lung could handle. He let out a childish whine and hit his fist lightly against the mattress.

"I wanna sleep," he moaned.

Fíli studied his brother sympathetically. It seemed that the more tired he was, the more childish he became. Now that he was drugged with a sleeping draught, he was even more petulant than before. He searched his mind for possible solutions that he could offer that would allow Kíli to finally rest.

"Here, why don't we get you off your back?" said Fíli. "Maybe that's the problem."

"Let me," Kíli said. He braced his hands on the mattress and attempted to push himself up, but fell back with a groan. Fíli reached out to help him, but he slapped his hand away with a wild wave of his arm. Fíli sighed and watched Kíli try again, but he was clearly too far under the influence of the medicine to control his body.

Fíli pulled Kíli onto his right side, ignoring his brother's protests against the help; Kíli cried out as the new position caused him even more pain. Feeling a fresh stab of guilt, Fíli quickly helped him back into his original position and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Can you lay on your left side?" he said.

Kíli shrugged lazily, and Fíli decided to give it a try. He removed the extra pillows from behind the drugged dwarf's head and rolled him onto his injured side; Kíli seemed too inebriated to care at that point, allowing Fíli to do as he wished. As soon as Fíli had moved Kíli into his new position, the younger dwarf took a relieved breath and closed his eyes.

"Better?" said Fíli.

Kíli barely nodded before he drifted off to sleep.

"Well, that worked better than expected," Fíli muttered. He drew the covers over his brother and sat for a while, content to watch him sleep. Kíli's breaths came lightly and fitfully, but still he slept, and seeing him get the rest he desperately needed calmed Fíli's heart and his mind.

* * *

**_And there you have it! I couldn't help including Gimli when I looked at the timelines and realized that at the time of this story, he would be 10 years old. CHILD GIMLI. HOW COULD I RESIST._**

**_Please review! The more in-depth your reviews, the more likely I am to respond to you and tell you secrets about the story! It just makes my day ^_^_**


	13. Crash

After Fíli figured out the trick to making Kíli comfortable enough to sleep, the injured dwarf had slept for a very long time – all through the day and into that night. When he awoke, he looked much renewed, though the shadow of illness and pain remained etched into his face. Óin had stopped by in the late morning to check on his stitches, and had decided that they were ready to come out. It was one more indication to Fíli that his brother was on the mend, and he took the news with great joy.

In the following days, Kíli's pain lessened, and his stubbornness returned with a vengeance. Since he had awoken from his coma, the other members of the household had had to assist him any time he needed to get out of bed. Now he insisted on walking by himself every time. The first few times had been humiliating disasters for him – he either had to be picked up after falling or rescued before he collapsed. But slowly, he regained his strength and pushed through what Fíli was sure was great pain in his determination to be independent once again.

Kíli was still suffering, of course – he could not breathe deeply without his chest erupting in agony, and sleep came only with the assistance of sleeping draughts – but he learned to tolerate his great discomfort without being so cross. His demeanor was helped also by the fact that words came back to him steadily, and he had mostly regained his ability to grip and grasp without assistance.

It had been twelve days since the accident, and Kíli's recovery looked more within reach every day.

Dís and Thorin had both gone out – returned to working as usual, as Kíli was on the mend. Kíli had been sleeping with the help of a sleeping draught, and Fíli was smoking his pipe by the fire in the living room, letting his cold toes warm up by the grate. The first frost had settled in the night before, and the day had refused to warm up; the fires in the house burned brightly now, but the frost had caught everyone by surprise, and the house had chilled during the night as the fires grew dim. It was early afternoon, and he did not expect anyone to be home for hours. The house was quiet and peaceful. He puffed on his pipe calmly and cheerfully, relishing the much-needed solitude.

Suddenly, an abrupt cry broke the stillness. Fíli started with alarm. Another cry, and he dropped his pipe and bolted into the bedroom. Kíli lay face down on the bed with his face stuffed into the pillow, screaming. A cold wash of fear flooded down Fíli's head to his heart, and he flew to Kíli's side.

"Kíli, Kíli, what's the matter?" he cried. He knew that Kíli still had pain attacks, but even those had lessened lately, and never before had he screamed due to the pain. This must be something different. He put a hand on his brother's back; Kíli groaned and turned onto his side. He curled into himself, shaking uncontrollably, and gritted his teeth.

"Help," Kíli said. "It hurts, it hurts, oh Durin, it hurts." He curled up into an even tighter ball and let out a panicked gasp, clutching his abdomen.

Suddenly, Kíli burst into a spasm of coughing, wheezing heavily and painfully. Fíli climbed onto the bed and pulled him into his chest. He held on to him tightly, panicking internally, but still being a support for his baby brother. The coughs wracked Kíli's body, and he slumped in Fíli's arms heavily, unable to keep himself upright. As the spasm ceased, Kíli let out a weak, hoarse cry, completely worn out and unable to move himself. Fíli cradled him in his arms.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, it's all right," he said, but Kíli just whimpered. A wave of tremors passed through ailing dwarf's body; Kíli bit his lip and moaned. He was deathly pale.

"Ow," Kíli squeaked miserably.

"I've got you, Kíli," Fíli said, brushing the hair out of Kíli's eyes. He felt his forehead – no fever. At least that was a comfort. He lifted the dark-haired dwarf's head and scooted behind him, leaning against the headboard, and placed his head in his lap. Kíli nestled in instinctively.

"Cold," Kíli rasped, shuddering. Fíli pulled the blankets up over him, but shivers continued to roll through Kíli's body regardless. The agony was so vivid on his face that Fíli almost felt as if he could feel it himself.

"I don't understand," Fíli said. "You were getting better… you were doing so well.. I don't…" he faltered as violent fear overtook him at the thought that maybe his brother would die after all. He swallowed back the terror and focused on the present. Kíli was clearly sick, and he was the only one who could go get help – but that meant leaving Kíli alone, and he was terrified that something would happen in his absence, and Kíli would be lost forever. No, he couldn't bring himself to go – but what then? Thorin and Dís were out. He wished that he had said _no_ when Thorin has asked him if he was sure he would be all right alone – but there was nothing to be done about that now.

"Don't go, please," Kíli croaked, sensing his brother's hesitation.

Panic pounded in Fíli's chest, but he would not abandon Kíli – not like this. He nodded and stayed where he was, pulling Kíli closer to himself and cradling his head gently. Kíli stayed curled up in his brother's lap; he continued to shiver, though he was covered by several warm blankets. Fíli wanted to build the fire, but Kíli was comforted by his closeness, and he wouldn't risk more discomfort to him. Not yet. He spoke soothing words, talking about anything and everything that didn't have to do with pain and injury, to keep Kíli – and himself – calm.

_Hold tight, Kíli, _he thought. _Help will be here soon._

* * *

By sundown, the chills had abated, but a fever had set in in its place. In addition to the fever, the first coughing spasm had not been the last – there had been several more – and Kíli's limited energy was completely spent. Sweat drenched his body as his temperature climbed higher and higher, and Fíli had been forced to get up to fetch a cloth and cool water to keep it down. He was beside himself with worry. He had long since given up trying to speak comforting words, as he had no comforting thoughts; he merely held Kíli close and wiped his brow and hoped that it was enough to push back some of the torment.

To his great relief, Fíli heard the front door open and close, and Thorin's purposeful steps echoed through the door. He sat up eagerly.

"Uncle!" he cried, his voice fraught with worry.

Thorin came running into the room at his call. When he saw his youngest nephew's state, he dashed to the bedside and placed a hand on his burning forehead. Alarm flashed in his eyes as he felt the fever; he raised his eyes to meet Fíli's, which were shining with unshed tears.

"He was fine this morning," Fíli said, his voice wavering. "I don't understand, Uncle. He was fine."

"How long has it been?" Thorin said brusquely.

"He started screaming suddenly this afternoon," Fíli said. "Then he had chills, and he's been having coughing fits, and then the fever set in… it was so quick… I don't understand. I thought he was getting better." His anguish threatened to strangle him as he looked down at his sickly brother, who lay silent, his eyes closed as he attempted to rest. The rapid deterioration of his condition had left Fíli petrified.

Thorin's brow quivered, and his eyes were uncharacteristically wide. _Fear_. Fíli sank even deeper into despair. He wrapped his arms tight around his brother and dropped his head. Something inside of him – he couldn't determine what – felt like it was being pulled tighter and tighter, the tensity threatening to overwhelm him. His mind seemed to be pulling apart from itself, and his thoughts became jumbled.

"I don't understand," he said. "I don't understand… I… I don't…"

"We need to get Óin," Thorin said.

"I'm not leaving him," Fíli said. "I won't – I won't."

"No, you stay with him," Thorin replied. "I'll go."

Fíli nodded, his eyes never straying from Kíli. Thorin moved to leave, but he hesitated by the bedside, looking at his young nephew plaintively. Instead of heading towards the door, he sat down on the bed and stroked Kíli's damp brow. The feverish dwarf opened his eyes, and Thorin offered a small smile of comfort.

"'Ncle," Kíli mumbled feebly. Thorin inhaled sharply, struggling to keep his composure.

"We'll get you better, Kíli," he said, his voice husky. "I promise."

Kíli nodded and closed his eyes, soothed by Thorin's thumb caressing his hot temples. Fíli could feel him relax under their uncle's touch; he was surprised at this side of the stoic dwarf that he had not seen since he was a child. After a few moments, Thorin stood up and let out a deep breath.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he said to Fíli. The blond dwarf made no reply, his thoughts still in disarray. Thorin put a hand on his shoulder, and then he was gone.

As soon as Thorin had left, another bout of coughing took hold of Kíli. Fíli put a hand on his brother's chest as the spasm shook him violently; tears streamed from Kíli's eyes as the pain overwhelmed him, but he could not stop hacking. The coughs had a deep, hoarse sound that made Fíli's chest ache.

There was nothing he could do.

As the fit subsided, the coughs were replaced by weak, distressed sobs. There was no such thing as resilience against this pain. Kíli wept openly, and Fíli pulled him up so that his head rested on his chest.

"Shh, it's all right," Fíli lied, forcing himself to remain calm. Calm like Thorin. "Thorin will be back soon with Óin. Everything will be all right."

Kíli was not comforted. He continued to weep, his mind and his body taxed by his condition. Fíli rested his chin on his brother's head and rocked him gently, pushing away all the horrible thoughts that haunted his mind. Kíli had to get better – Fíli could not bear to have this blood on his hands. The nightmare from so many nights before flashed before his mind, and he recoiled from it. The guilt of his crime had been slowly fading away as the days went on and Kíli got better, but now the full weight of his actions crashed down on his shoulders, and he bent under the nigh-unbearable heaviness.

"What have I done?" Fíli whispered into Kíli's damp hair. "Oh, Durin… what have I done?"

* * *

**_A/N: I didn't want to say anything before - I just wanted you to see what happens. See what I meant about the calm before the storm?_**

**_I know that some of you are probably frustrated with this relapse, but some of you have hinted that you thought this would happen. Honestly, given the medical treatment of the time, this was basically inevitable, in my opinion. That's really all I have to say._**

**_Special thanks to Nalbal for assistance with this chapter, and a shout-out to everyone who has been wanting more Thorin/Kíli interaction. You will get your wish next chapter - I promise. Until then - review! I love seeing what you guys have to see, good OR bad. This is a fanfic, and as such, you guys have input._**


	14. Broken

**_A/N: Okay, this is another one of those "I stayed up all night long and refused to go to bed until I finished it" chapters. I hope it's okay. _**

**_Super special thanks to Nalbal, who basically wrote part of this chapter, except that I actually wrote it. But it was all her idea. Go read her fic because YOU WILL LOVE IT._**

**_I heard you guys wanted some Thorin. You asked - hopefully, I delivered._**

* * *

Thorin returned quickly with Óin in his wake. Fíli looked up as the two entered the bedroom, his eyes heavy with worry and sorrow. He looked back down at Kíli, who was resting in his arms with his dark head on his brother's chest, wheezing.

"Help him, please," Fíli said, his voice cracking.

"I'll do what I can, lad," said Óin. He sat down in the chair by the bedside and set his satchel on the table.

"He was fine this morning," Fíli said, almost pleading, though he didn't know what he was asking for. "He was getting better."

"Fíli, why don't you come with me?" said Thorin. "Let Óin examine Kíli in peace and quiet."

Kíli stirred suddenly at Thorin's words. "No," he murmured, grabbing on to Fíli's tunic. Fíli wrapped his arms tighter around him protectively and shot a challenging glare at his uncle.

"Why?" he said.

"You'll be in the way," Óin said curtly. "You're too worried for him."

"But he doesn't want me to go," said Fíli without budging. "He wants me to stay."

Óin and Thorin exchanged looks, and Fíli sensed that they had discussed this on the way back. Thorin strode forward and sat down on the bed; Fíli eyed him warily, but all he did was put a hand on Kíli's arm.

"Kíli, I'll bring him right back," said Thorin in a soft, soothing tone. "I promise." Kíli merely shook his head and held on to his brother. Sighing, Thorin leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his youngest nephew, pulling him out of Fíli's grasp. Kíli whimpered at first, clutching Fíli feebly, but then he sank into his uncle, too weak to fight. Thorin held him close and looked at Fíli pointedly. He nodded towards the door.

"Go," he mouthed. When Fíli didn't move, he raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes – his _I'm-not-pleased-with-your-behavior_ face. He jerked his head towards the door again.

Fíli reluctantly obeyed, his heart in his throat. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at Kíli and Thorin; his uncle still held Kíli close, and he was whispering something in his ear. After a few moments, Kíli nodded, and Thorin carefully laid him back into his pillow. He dipped his head to Óin, stroking Kíli's brow one more time, and then stood up and left the room, taking Fíli by the arm and pulling him along. Fíli stumbled after his uncle, chagrined.

Thorin led him into the living room and finally let him go. He sat in his chair by the fire and studied his young nephew severely; Fíli shifted uncomfortably under his piercing gaze.

"Why don't you sit with me a while?" Thorin said, his voice unexpectedly gentle.

Fíli made a jerking motion towards another chair, but he didn't feel like sitting. He stood awkwardly; Thorin looked him over, his expression unreadable.

"Please come sit," he said, but this time, it wasn't a request.

Fíli sat down in a chair across from his uncle and looked down at his hands, unsure of what to say or even if he was in trouble or not. He could feel Thorin's eyes on him; if he had anything to say, he kept it to himself, and the two sat in uncomfortable silence. Fíli picked at a loose piece of skin on his middle finger, wincing when he pulled too hard and drew blood. He put the stinging finger in his mouth.

"Are you all right?" Thorin said suddenly.

"It's just a hangnail," said Fíli.

"That's not what I mean," said Thorin. "Are you all right?"

He caught his meaning this time, and as much as Fíli wanted to lie and say _yes_, he couldn't bring himself to say it. A heavy lump developed in his throat. He tried to swallow it down, but it stayed, and he could feel his lip starting to quiver. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to steady himself.

"Fíli?"

"No," he said finally, the answer barely more than a whisper.

Thorin sighed. "Fíli, we've told you many times, this isn't your fault."

Fíli felt frustration burning in his belly as his uncle repeated himself for what felt like the thousandth time. "Everyone keeps_ telling_ me that it isn't my fault," Fíli said shakily. "and I've tried to believe you, and I've tried to push away the… the guilt, but he just keeps getting worse and worse, and I—"

"Fíli," Thorin interrupted, his voice full of compassion.

"No, I can't – I can't bear it any longer, knowing that he might… that he might…" He stood up and faced the fire, fighting hard against the tears. "And I'm the one who caused it. No one can change the fact that I shot the arrow that started all of this. I _am_ responsible, Uncle. I… I can't…" He stopped and put both hands on the mantelpiece, breathing hard to stay himself. He heard a rustling sound to his left, and then Thorin had a hand on his arm.

"Listen to me—"

"No!" Fíli shouted shrilly. "You don't understand how horrible it feels, knowing that he's – he's – he's _dying_ – and it wouldn't be possible without me." He looked up at Thorin, gasping for breath in a losing battle against his emotions.

Thorin took hold of both of his arms and turned him to face him. "Fíli, I've told you, holding on to this guilt will not make Kíli any better. Listen to me now. Please stop this."

Fíli shook his head. He felt as if his mind was unraveling. "I can't… I can't," he said.

Thorin gave him a violent shake. "You're losing control of yourself. Pull it together, for Mahal's sake!"

Fíli lost it then, breaking down into hoarse, breathy sobs; his knees began to bend as he lost his will to stand. Before he even knew what was happening, and taking him quite by surprise, Thorin's strong arms wrapped around him in a warm, crushing hug. Fíli felt small in his grip, like a child, but he took comfort in the unexpected affection.

"I thought he was getting better," Fíli sobbed into Thorin's shoulder.

"We all did," said Thorin, his own voice breaking now.

"I thought I would finally be able to – to stop feeling guilty, to have Kíli back, have everything back to normal," Fíli rambled. "I can't stop thinking – what have I done, what have I done, what if he…?" He buried his face into the line of Thorin's collarbone. The older dwarf squeezed him tight and said nothing; he just let him cry.

* * *

Fíli opened his eyes and looked out from where he was slumped in his seat by the fire. He hadn't meant to fall asleep; he wondered how long it had been. He stood, and his joints cracked and his neck felt stiff. A while, then. He stretched and lumbered into the dark kitchen, searching for any sign of life, but there was no one there. He wondered where his mother was. She should have been home by now.

_Kíli._

Surely Óin had already gone; he must have left Thorin with some kind of diagnosis. His uncle must be in with Kíli.

He opened the door quietly and peered in. Thorin sat on the side of the bed, wiping Kíli's forehead with a damp cloth. Kíli was fast asleep, and he looked peaceful in the candlelight – more peaceful than Fíli had seen him in days. Thorin set the cloth aside and moved a stray piece of hair off of Kíli's forehead, then rested a large, calloused palm on his burning cheek. Though it was very faint, Fíli could have sworn that the old, stoic dwarf was actually humming. He stepped further into the room, and the floorboard beneath his feet creaked.

Thorin turned quickly, startled by the sound. When he saw Fíli, he dipped his head as a greeting and turned back to his younger nephew.

"I didn't realize… the pain," Thorin said. Fíli could hear the grief in his voice. "He had a fit earlier. Just before he went to sleep."

"Did Óin give him something?" said Fíli.

"Some kind of tea… colt's foot and thyme, I think he said. Supposed to make the coughing easier. And a sleeping draught."

"Did he say what was wrong with him?" Fíli pressed.

Thorin let out a deep breath and looked down at his nephew, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his sorrow. He smoothed out the covers over Kíli's sleeping body. "He says it's an infection in his lung," he said. "Pneumonia."

Fíli's heart felt shrunken with anguish and despair. He had seen what pneumonia had done to those who were already weak, and he could not imagine an outcome that did not end in death. Thorin looked back up and met his eyes meaningfully.

"This is not a death sentence, Fíli," he said sternly. "I made you a promise. I made Kíli a promise. And Mahal can take me to the Halls now if I go back on it. Do you hear me?"

Fíli nodded wordlessly, pushing down his hopelessness as best he could. He wanted to believe Thorin, but his gut was tied up with too much trepidation to allow him to have hope.

"Where's Mum?" he pushed out.

"Bed," Thorin replied. "She didn't take the news well." Thorin sighed and wiped away a bead of sweat from Kíli's forehead with his thumb. He picked up the damp cloth again and dipped it in the bucket of cold water on the bedside table, then wrung it out and laid it across Kíli's brow gently. Fíli wondered at his uncle's tender actions, surprised that it had remained hidden under his tough exterior all these years.

Fíli sat down in the chair by the bedside and examined his brother's sleeping frame. He was not so gaunt as in days previous, but he had never regained a fully healthy look – and now it had been stolen away completely by this new illness. Fíli was glad that he was able to sleep, at least.

"How are you, Fíli?" said Thorin gently. He turned his penetrating gaze to his blond nephew, searching his eyes with a deep care and kindness.

"I don't know," Fíli said honestly. The corners of his eyes pricked, and he blinked rapidly to stay the tears. "But – thank you. For earlier."

Thorin offered him a wan smile. "Sometimes, no words are necessary," he said quietly.

No words were necessary then. The two sat in silence, content to watch their invalid kinsman simply be alive – for however long it would last.

* * *

**_And now I go to sleep! Please review, especially if you have ideas about what should happen next, because I've only got the vaguest inclination. The more you guys suggest, the more ideas I have, and the faster I can get a chapter out to you!_**


	15. Surrender

_**A/N: I KEEP FORGETTING TO MENTION but now I have remembered! Everyone should go check out the user lilis-gallery on deviantART because she is doing an illustration for every chapter of this story! As of writing this, she has done chapters 1 and 2, and hopefully 3 will be up fairly soon. BUT GO LOOK because they're AMAZING.**_

_**Also I've gone through all the previous chapters and added special characters to names because it was bothering me. Fili, Kili, Dis, and Oin are now Fíli, Kíli, Dís, and Óin. So yeah, that happened.**_

_**Special thanks go to chestry007 for some absolutely amazing ideas that I have incorporated into this chapter. I swear, this fic would have died out without all the help you guys have given me. Bless you all.**_

* * *

There was no peace in the house in the days that followed.

Every day brought only more despair into the hearts of Kíli's kin. Every breath he took was more laborious than the last and brought him little relief; they would not leave him alone, afraid that if they were not there, he would stop breathing altogether and be lost to them forever. They took shifts staying with him, staying within reach, for Kíli seemed unable to rest unless he had someone to hold on to, a lifeline to keep him in the world.

Fíli could feel himself slowly unraveling, but he fought hard to put up a front of fortitude. It was not enough to fool Thorin, however, who had taken to shooing Fíli out of the room every time Kíli had a coughing fit. But he could not escape the sounds – the coughing, the screaming, the sobbing, the retching when Kíli coughed so hard that he made himself vomit. They echoed through the house and rent Fíli's heart and mind, leaving him with a constant drum in his head – _This is your fault, this is your fault, this is your fault, this is your fault._

The fever was not as high as it had been when the arrow-wound had been infected. It was the only thing Fíli could find to be grateful for. Another seizure in this condition would surely kill him before it had even run its course. Without the delirium, however, Kíli had no escape from his pain, save for sleep, and that came only with the help of the disgusting sleeping draught. His eyes held what seemed to be a permanent dark shadow around them, and anything he tried to eat only came up when the coughing fits became too harsh. He was fading fast. The only hope Fíli had was his faith in his uncle's promise, and he didn't know how much he believed Thorin could do anything to stop what seemed to be inevitable.

After five days of suffering, something changed in Kíli.

In the days before, he had allowed scarcely a moment without someone either holding him close or holding his hand, but early in the evening, he had an especially harsh coughing spasm that left him retching, tears flowing down his face. Instead of relaxing into his uncle's arms, he had pushed Thorin away and curled into himself, shuddering. He would let no one touch him. Though he could not truly rest, he had been silent all that evening, looking detached, burrowed inside himself. Fíli had grown increasingly anxious as the hours drew on. He wondered what was on his brother's mind that caused him to withdraw so, but whenever he asked, he was ignored.

Fíli was dozing in the overstuffed chair that Thorin had brought in to Kíli's bedside, a welcome change from the hard, wooden seat that had previously occupied that space. Kíli may not have acknowledged his presence, but there was no way that Fíli would allow him to be alone – especially since he didn't know what had caused such a change in his brother's demeanor.

Finally, just as the sun began to set, Kíli spoke.

"Fíli?"

Fíli snapped out of his reverie and focused on his brother. He was laying on his back, his face turned towards him. He had a strange, withdrawn look in his dark eyes.

"What is it?" Fíli said, glad for a break in the silence.

"I'm sorry," Kíli said, breaking between his words to catch his breath.

"What on earth are you sorry for?" Fíli said. A funny feeling pooled in his stomach as Kíli looked at him with deep sadness.

"I… I shouldn't have… made you shoot," Kíli said. He closed his eyes, already exhausted by his few words.

"Don't strain yourself," Fíli said. "You don't need to—"

"I'm so tired," Kíli burst out, his voice rife with agony. "I can't – I can't…" he paused for air. "I feel like I'm…" he signed a word. _Drowning._

"I'll get you something to help," Fíli said, rising. "Some of the tea, or some—"

"It won't change anything," Kíli said. He met Fíli's eyes, and something in his gaze drew Fíli back to his seat, a deep foreboding filtering into the edges of his mind.

Kíli, too winded to speak, drew his hands up weakly to sign. _I need you to promise me that you won't blame yourself._

Fíli looked at Kíli, confused; then, a rush of blood ran through Fíli's ears like a hurricane as he realized what Kíli was doing. He was saying goodbye. He began to shake his head as the hurricane warped into a loud buzz, no, no, this wasn't happening—

"Listen," Kíli hissed. Fíli had no words; he simply stared at his brother, horror-stricken, his insides turned to ice.

_I don't blame you,_ he signed. _You cannot blame yourself. I want you to promise me._

"Kíli, stop this," Fíli said. "You're not going to die. Just stop this."

_I'm so tired,_ Kíli signed. _I've had enough. I don't want to do this anymore._

"But what about me?" Fíli said selfishly, his voice starting to break. "What am I supposed to do?"

_Promise me,_ Kíli signed, ignoring his question.

"Only if you promise not to die," Fíli said.

Kíli smiled sadly and shook his head. Fíli noticed then how slow his breaths were coming, how his lips and the tip of his nose had taken on a blue hue. Kíli closed his eyes and let out a breath; he did not draw another one in.

A great anguish rose in Fíli, and he was screaming his uncle's name – he knew he was, because he could hear it, but it seemed to be happening far, far away. Thorin came running in as Fíli shook his brother violently, willing him to breathe, but he would not.

"He gave up, Uncle, he gave up," Fíli sobbed, clutching at Kíli's shirt desperately. Thorin shoved him out of the way unceremoniously and leaned over his youngest nephew.

"No!" he roared, his voice fierce. "You will _not_ die." He took Kíli's face in his hands. "Listen to me. _You. Will. Not. Die._"

Dís ran into the room then. When she saw her youngest laying lifeless on the bed, a sob escaped her lips, and she ran forward. Thorin stopped her with his arm.

"That's my child," she sobbed. "That's my baby. Thorin, that's my baby. Let me see him."

"I won't let him die, Dís," Thorin growled. "I've got him. Get Fíli out of here."

"Thorin—"

"I promise you, sister – I will _not_ let him give up," said Thorin. "Now get Fíli out."

"No, please," Fíli begged. "Please, Uncle, don't make me go."

"Dís, get him _out_," said Thorin. Dís reached for him and pulled him up, dragging him out of the room, but Fíli held on to the doorframe, his eyes locked on Kíli. Thorin shook his limp body.

"Kíli, you start breathing _right now_!" Thorin bellowed, his tone carrying all the weight and authority of King Under The Mountain. Kíli's eyes snapped open, and he took in a sudden deep breath.

Then he screamed it out.

Fíli's knees buckled under him, and only Dís's great strength kept him from collapsing to the floor. She pulled him out of the room and sat him at the kitchen table, where he laid his face on the wood and didn't move. Everything moved in slow motion, and the buzzing in his ears would not stop. He could hear Thorin coaching Kíli back to life.

"Breathe in."

Gasping.

"Good, now breathe out."

An agonized cry.

"And again."

Another gasp.

"Out now."

"I don't want to," came Kíli's voice, high and petulant.

"I'm not giving you a choice in the matter," said Thorin. "You will do as I say."

Fíli listened intently as Thorin continued to force Kíli to stay alive. Everything seemed to be in a haze; any thought he had was a jumbled mess. He wondered if he was going mad. No, mad people didn't know they were mad. He couldn't be mad.

A mug of hot tea was pushed into his line of view, and he stared at it, confused. What on earth was it for? His mother's skirts came into view as well, and then her face as she squatted to his level. Her eyes were red, and her lip quivered as she held herself together.

"Please drink," she said gently. She pushed his hair behind his ear and rested a hand on his cheek. He stared at her hollowly, trying to piece together her words, but all he could hear was his uncle and his brother, and that buzzing sound. Words didn't make sense.

"Fíli," she said. She said something else – reassuring words, most likely – but they could not reach through the haze. He felt cold. Dís took his hands and wrapped them around the mug, and he finally gathered that she wanted him to drink it. He lifted his head from the table and felt the heat radiating in his palms, hot enough to sting, but not hot enough to let go. He took a sip and winced as the liquid burned his tongue, but the warmth felt good against his insides. He drank more, downing half the cup before the bitter taste caught up to him and he gagged.

Dís watched him carefully, and Fíli began to suspect that something was amiss, but the haze kept him from guessing. He pushed the mug away and looked at his mother.

"Better?" she said.

"I…" Fíli started before a wave of dizziness overtook him. He wavered in his seat and gripped the table; the whole world seemed to have turned askew. Dís took his arm and pulled him up, and he stumbled into her. What happened to his feet? They felt all switched around. Were they even still there?

"Come this way," she said, leading him down the hallway to Thorin's room. He leaned on her heavily, trying to work through the fog and figure out where his feet had gone. She laid him down in Thorin's bed and pulled the covers over him, then sat at his side and stroked his hair, humming softly. He was so tired – more tired than he had ever felt in his entire life.

Suddenly, he had a moment of clarity, and his mind connected the dots. The tea. It had been so bitter…

"Did you…?" he said, his words slurring.

"Shh," Dís said. "Sleep."

"You put sleeping draught in my tea," he mumbled sleepily.

Dís only smiled and continued to stroke his hair.

"That's.. a mean trick," he said. His eyes felt so heavy. He let them close.

"It's for your own good," she said.

He was too tired to protest.

"I wanna see Kíli," he said.

"Later. Go to sleep."

"Now?"

"Later."

Fíli felt himself drifting away, but he stirred himself for one more question.

"Mum?"

"Mm?"

"How come you're so strong?"

"I'm your mum. It's my job," she said. "Now hush."

Fíli obeyed, listening to Thorin's voice rumble down the hall and Kíli's cries combine with his mother's humming, a strange mixture of sounds that reverberated in his head and confused his drugged mind.

He let the darkness overtake him.


	16. Forsaken

_**A/N: Here it is! Chapter 16. Sorry it took so long to get out to you. I probably promised at least one of you, if not more, that this would be done yesterday or the day before, but life got in the way. Don't people understand that I need to be alone to WRITE? :P**_

_**Forewarning: I have a conference to go to/work at this weekend, and I will be too busy to do any writing. I know I've made you all accustomed to updates on an average of every other day, but expect to wait about a week before you get Chapter 17. I won't even have time to write until Monday at the earliest, most likely. But this chapter is a monster – the longest one yet, and possibly the longest one there will be. So maybe that can make it up to you. Behold, the feels.**_

* * *

A throbbing headache greeted Fíli as he awoke.

Confusion clouded his mind – where was he? This wasn't his room. He sat up and instantly regretted it as a wave of dizziness washed over him, forcing him back down. He laid a hand over his eyes and grunted, frustrated with the lack of clarity plaguing him. It was as if he had been drugged…

But he had! He remembered now. His mother had slipped that bitter sleeping draught into his tea and led him away to Thorin's room, away from Kíli—

_Kíli._ He started up in bed and threw off the covers, fighting off the lightheadedness that tried to send him to the floor. Stumbling, he forced his way into the kitchen, and would have made it to his and Kíli's room if it were not for the strong arms of his mother holding him back.

"He's alive, Fíli," Dís said. "Please don't go in there right now. Your uncle's just gotten him stable."

Stable. What did that mean? Was he breathing on his own? Had he decided not to give up? Fíli pushed at his mother's arms wordlessly, but she held him fast and sat him in a chair. He stayed put, relieved to be off his feet, even if he could not see his brother. The lightheadedness still clung to him, and the throbbing in his head had turned into pounding. Dís eyed him warily.

"Fíli, are you all right?" she said.

Everything was swirling through his head at once, creating a cacophony of thoughts and nothing made sense. He wanted to go back to sleep. He wanted to see Kíli. Dís squatted beside him and put a hand on his face. She called his name softly; he met her gaze.

"Is the draught still affecting you?" she said, her blue eyes shining with concern.

"I… I think so," Fíli said. If he was honest, he really didn't know. He wasn't sure about anything, except that his head hurt. He pushed the heels of his palms against his temples and shut his eyes tight; the pounding reduced some, and his shoulders relaxed.

"Why don't you go back to bed?" Dís said. "It's early still. Go sleep."

"I want to see Kíli," Fíli said abruptly.

"He's fine," said Dís. "Well – as fine as he can be. He's exhausted, and he needs his rest. You can see him later."

Fíli sighed, aggravated, but he knew his mother would not let him through that door, no matter how much he wanted to see his brother. The pounding increased again, and he dug his palms harder into his head, his brow furrowing.

"M'head hurts," he mumbled.

"I'll make you a cup of tea," Dís said, rising to her feet. Fíli removed his hands from his head and looked up at her suspiciously; she smiled reassuringly.

"Just tea," she promised. "No sleeping draught."

Fíli relaxed his gaze and nodded. He folded his arms on the table and buried his face in them, relishing the darkness behind his closed lids. He let his mind rest, trying to think of nothing – but all he could think of was the headache that was growing stronger by the second.

Half-dreams flitted through his mind, forgotten instantly as new ones took shape. He had almost fallen asleep at the table when the _thud _of a mug hitting wood startled him awake. He stared at the steaming mug before him, then up at Dís. She offered him a small smile.

"Why don't you go sit by the fire in the living room?" she said. "The chairs in there are comfortable."

Comfortable… that sounded good. He stood up, balancing himself with one hand on the table as another wave of dizziness threatened to topple him. Dís grabbed him by the shoulders and studied his face.

"Here, I'll take the tea for you," she said. "Lean on me, darling. I'm not sure you'll get there on your own."

Fíli wanted to protest, but he had a feeling that his mother was right. He felt awfully unstable. She wrapped an arm around his middle and led him to a comfortable chair by the fire; he plopped down and yawned. Dís put the mug of tea in his hands and left the room.

Was he drugged? He wasn't sure. He certainly _felt_ drugged, but surely the sleeping draught must have worn off by now. The haze from the night before still hovered at the edges of his mind like an insect that would not be shooed away.

He stared at the mug of tea in his hands, focusing on the warmth that flowed into his fingers. He wanted to see Kíli. _Hearing_ that he was alive was not the same as _seeing_ him living and breathing. He thought briefly about barging into the room against his mother's wishes, but he was too tired… he didn't even want his tea anymore. He set it on the side table and leaned back, closing his eyes; within minutes, he was fast asleep.

* * *

Fíli started awake with a panicked gasp, the horror of terrifying dreams gripping at his mind. He breathed in deep, savoring the air that filled his lungs, and let it out slowly.

_Calm yourself,_ he thought. _You aren't mad._ He became aware of something restricting him in place, and he flailed wildly, pushing at whatever it was—_oh._

Just a blanket.

Fíli pressed his palms into his eyes and sighed. His mind still felt so scrambled – but surely, the sleeping draught had worn off by now. What was coming against him?

The throbbing in his head suddenly gripped his attention. _Ah._ Perhaps it was this confounded headache. He looked to his left at the side table, but the mug he had placed there was gone. He now wished he had drank that cup of tea.

Fíli pushed himself out of the chair, letting the blanket fall to the ground. He gauged his balance warily; he definitely was not as lightheaded as before, but he could detect a slight instability in his movements. The room seemed to waver around the edges, like the air was caught in the heat of a fire. He blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his head, but the shimmer remained. Regardless, he stepped forward, and was instantly caught off guard by a wild spinning sensation that sent him back into his seat.

"Oh," he said quietly, perplexed.

"Fíli?" came Dís's voice from the kitchen. Her form soon followed as she peered into the entryway; Fíli looked up to meet her gaze.

"I'm so dizzy," he said.

Dís came into the room and sat on the arm of the chair, placing a hand on his forehead; she frowned.

"You're a bit warm," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy," Fíli replied plainly.

Dís rolled her eyes. "Anything else?"

"This damned headache," he said, closing his eyes and leaning back into the seat.

"I can make you another cup of tea, but you have to drink it this time," she said. Fíli nodded, and she rose.

"Mum?" he said, his eyes still closed.

Dís paused. "Yes, love?" she said.

"I want to see Kíli."

Dís didn't respond, and Fíli opened one eye to look at her. She appeared to be searching for words.

"I… don't think that would be wise," she said finally.

Fíli opened both eyes now and stared, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Why?" he demanded.

"Fíli, if you're ill, we can't risk Kíli catching something else—"

"I want to see him," Fíli interrupted, adamant. "I want to make sure he's okay."

"Your uncle and I are taking care of him. There is no need for you to worry," Dís said curtly. "I'm sure you'll be fine soon – then you may see him."

Frustration rattled in Fíli's already rattled head. Didn't she _understand_? The last time he had seen his brother, he was screaming, one breath away from death. He didn't just _want_ to see him – he _needed_ to see him. He needed that assurance for himself.

Something in his countenance must have shown his dismay, because Dís's expression softened, and she looked towards Fíli and Kíli's room.

"I suppose you could peek in from the doorway," she said. "But mind you don't get close. He is still very, very ill. Do you understand?"

Fíli nodded vigorously, then regretted it immediately it as all sense of balance was lost and the room tilted on its side. He gripped the arms of the chair, afraid that he might fall right out of his seat. When the world had turned right side up again, he stood up slowly, taking care to stay as upright as possible.

"Do you need help?" said Dís.

"No, I want to do it myself," Fíli said. He smiled to himself as he realized how much he sounded like Kíli.

Though the room swayed, he was able to walk into the kitchen unassisted; he moved towards the bedroom door, but Dís stopped him.

"Sit first," she said. "Let me make you a cup of tea."

Fíli acquiesced with reluctance, sinking into a seat at the kitchen table. Within a few minutes, an aromatic brew was sitting before him. He picked it up and drank quickly, impatient to see his brother. The tea worked swiftly; by the time Fíli finished his cup, the headache had reduced from a wild pounding to a much more bearable light throbbing, and everything seemed far less off-kilter than before.

He set down the empty mug and looked at Dís expectantly, and she nodded her permission. Fíli shot out of his seat, ignoring the draining of blood from his head as he stood, and strode to the bedroom door. He opened it slowly and peered in.

Thorin sat on the bed, his eyes ringed with blue due to lack of sleep. In his arms was Kíli, who had all but crawled into his lap; he held on to his uncle fiercely, as if nothing else in the world could save him. His head lay on Thorin's forearm, and his eyes were open wide, his brows drawn back. Thorin was stroking his hair absentmindedly, humming a familiar tune about the lost gold of Erebor. Fíli stepped into the room, and Thorin looked up at him tiredly.

"He's alive," he said, his voice gravelly with fatigue. Kíli's gaze flicked over to his older brother, then back out into nothing, simply making a grunt as a greeting.

Fíli leaned into the wall and sighed with relief. Kíli was still gravely ill, but Thorin had kept his promise. He was alive. He would stay alive.

Thorin drew his eyebrows together in confusion as Fíli remained far across the room.

"You can come closer," he said.

Fíli shook his head. "Mum thinks I'm sick," he said. "She almost didn't let me in at all."

The elder dwarf looked Fíli over from head to toe. Dissatisfied with the lack of evidence of illness, he opened his mouth to speak.

"And what is wrong?" he said.

With a weary sigh, Fíli said, "I've got a terrible headache… and I'm dizzy. Mum said I've got a bit of a fever."

"Your mother's right, then," said Thorin. "Best keep your distance from your brother until you're better."

Fíli slouched his shoulders, disappointed. He had hoped that Thorin would contradict his mother and invite him closer, but he was now definitively banned from being near his brother. His heart turned painfully with longing as he wished he could be at his brother's side, but he knew that Dís would be whisking him away in a heartbeat if he got any closer. Feeling especially forlorn, he turned to leave the room. He paused in the doorway and turned back to face Thorin and Kíli.

"Uncle?" he said.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for keeping him alive."

The corners of Thorin's lips turned up slightly, and a kindly expression came over his face – but Fíli did not miss the flash in Kíli's eyes as he spoke.

"I made a promise, and I intend to keep it," Thorin said gravely. Fíli smiled in return and left the room.

* * *

The day brought little change to Kíli's condition. Fíli could hear him coughing and gasping for breath, his pained cries accompanied by the low rumble of Thorin's voice, comforting and coaching him. Fíli was restricted from the room and spent most of the day sulking in the living room – though if he were honest with himself, he didn't feel much like moving anyway. The throbbing in his skull remained with him all day, and his balance had not much improved, making motion difficult. He tried not to think much; his mind had settled some, but now he was plagued with a tight feeling in his chest that he couldn't quite place, save for knowing that it came when he thought of Kíli's surrender the night before. Dís checked on him regularly, bringing him so many mugs of tea that he was sure his blood had started to run brown.

He fell asleep in the living room that night, too weary and too dizzy to relocate. As he drifted off, he felt a blanket being wrapped around him by the gentle hands of his mother.

His sleep did not last long, however. He was assaulted with terrible nightmares yet again – Kíli bleeding, Kíli dying, screaming in pain, accusing him of betrayal. There was no rest for him in this condition. He decided to find his mother; childish as he felt, he wanted comfort badly enough to set aside his inhibitions. He stood up, standing still for a moment as vertigo swept over him, then made his way out of the living room.

The kitchen was empty. The fire in the hearth burned low; he wondered what time it was, but save for the darkness indicating that it was night, he had no idea. He peered down the dark hallway. The door to his mother's room was open, but Thorin's was shut, and Fíli could hear his snores rolling down the corridor. So he had finally gone to sleep. Dís must have been in with Kíli now.

He paused to consider this dilemma. Surely she wouldn't mind if he came in, as long as he kept his distance; he would stay by the door, and she couldn't reprimand him for being that far away. With this thought, he pushed open the bedroom door, taking care to keep silent in case Kíli was asleep. What he encountered instead was a sleeping Dís and an awake Kíli, looking weary and withdrawn. The brothers eyed each other; Fíli felt that tight feeling in his chest again suddenly, and his headache surged, making him wince.

With a glance at his sleeping mother, Fíli decided against waking her, and instead to take advantage of the time to talk to his brother. He used Iglishmêk, wary of disturbing her sleep.

_Hello_, he signed to Kíli.

_Hello,_ Kíli signed back.

_How are you feeling?_

_Like death._ The look on Kíli's face did not betray his strong words, and the tight feeling in Fíli's chest pulled even tighter. He looked at their sleeping mother, nervous. She clearly trusted him more than Fíli did, falling asleep while watching him. A twinge of annoyance made its way through Fíli's head at what he considered to be a lack of vigilance.

_But you're not giving up, are you?_ he signed, searching his brother's face for signs of betrayal.

Kíli's pause was too long for Fíli's comfort, and his chest tightened painfully.

"Kíli, you can't," he whispered. Kíli's eyes shot to Dís, but she remained peacefully asleep. Fíli looked at him beseechingly, but Kíli's eyes still held that far-away look.

Suddenly, Fíli realized what the tight feeling was – anger_._ He was angry, angry at what Kíli had done – furious, in fact. The tightness snapped, and heat rushed to his pounding temples as he gave in to the rush of wrath.

"How _dare_ you?" Fíli hissed.

Kíli started, staring at his older brother with wide eyes.

"What happened to the stubborn little brother of mine who never gave up on anything?" Fíli continued, allowing his anger to boil. "You try to force me into this – this cockamamie promise you _know_ I can't keep – and then you give up? You would surrender, leaving me here alone without you?"

Kíli blinked, speechless. He looked over to Dís again and pulled at her hand; his breaths quickened, and he gasped fearfully, but Fíli was far too incensed now. He gained volume, his anger overflowing into rage.

"How many times do I have to watch you die, Kíli? How many times do I have to watch you give up and hope that someone is there to keep you alive? Tell me now, just so I know when I should give up on _you_." He snarled the last sentence cruelly, but he instantly regretted his words as he saw how they affected his brother, who was now struggling to breathe, wheezing in a high pitch.

Dís had been awakened by Fíli's shouting, and she looked from one brother to the other, shocked at Fíli's behavior.

"Fíli! Stop!" she said. "Can't you see what you're doing to him?"

"If it were up to him, he'd already be dead!" Fíli bellowed. "How can I do any worse?"

Kíli gasped harshly and let out a short wail, and Dís turned her attention to her youngest. He began to cough violently, and Dís abandoned her chair for the bed, pulling Kíli close.

"Enough, Fíli!" she shouted.

Suddenly the door opened, and Fíli felt a hand grab the collar of his shirt. He flew backward as the hand yanked him out of the room and slammed him into the wall outside. Thorin was inches from his face, his hand gripping Fíli's throat.

"What's the matter with you, boy?" he yelled fiercely. All Fíli's rage dissipated instantly and was replaced by a sudden terror at the anger flashing in his uncle's eyes. He let out a panicked cry and tried to escape, but Thorin held him fast.

"What in Durin's name were you thinking?" Thorin snarled. "Do you think shouting at your brother will keep him alive? Do you think it will make him any better?"

"I'm sorry, Uncle, I'm sorry," Fíli gasped, gripping at Thorin's hand on his throat.

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to," Thorin said. "Your brother is deathly ill, and you have just made him worse. He deserves more from you than that!"

"Uncle, please," Fíli begged, clawing at Thorin's iron grip. Thorin let him go, and he collapsed into a heap on the floor, gasping in his distress.

"Don't you _dare_ come near my nephew until you know how to treat him, do you hear me?" Thorin growled. He stalked off into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him, leaving Fíli alone in the kitchen.

Fíli drew his knees up into his chest and rested his forehead in the gap between them, trembling and gasping. Never before had Thorin treated him in such a way. He could still feel where Thorin had gripped his throat – not hard enough to choke him, but that had not reassured him in the slightest. He had thought that he wanted to be punished – that he deserved to be treated in such a way. But now that he had finally incited his uncle to react, it was obvious to him that he had never wanted anything of the sort.

He listened to the sounds from coming from the bedroom – Kíli's labored breathing, and Thorin and Dís both speaking gently to him in turn, attempting to calm him down. The coughing fit had clearly taken any strength that he had built up out of him, and Thorin was once again coaching him to breathe. A terrible twist of guilt wrenched Fíli's gut, and he knew that it was justified. After a few minutes, he raised his head, and the room spun around him. He lowered his head again and took a steadying breath.

The world seemed to ebb and flow around Fíli. He wanted to stand, but he couldn't remember how. The haze had returned full force, and accompanied with it was a deep feeling of shame for his actions. Thorin was right – he had made his brother worse in his anger. His Kíli, who was so close to death – he had shouted at him, causing him great distress and stealing from any progress that had been made. He could never forgive himself for this.

He had to get away, away from the bedroom, away from his brother's agonized cries and the voices of those he had hurt, those he had shamed himself in front of once again. He attempted to stand, but the room danced before his eyes, and he fell back to the ground. He covered his eyes with his hands and began to weep; no one was coming for him. No one was coming to help him. He had given offense to his entire family, and now he was alone.

Still weeping, Fíli laid his palms on the floor and crawled to the living room, desperate to find solace from the commotion he had created, yet unable to walk in his own malady. He curled into himself on the floor in front of the fire and sobbed, feeling forsaken and deeply ashamed.


	17. Cold

**_A/N: Hey guys, it's been a while! This chapter took me a while - I started it on Monday, and I've just finished it! I don't think I've ever rewritten something so many times, ugh. I hope you guys like it. Well, I don't know if like is the right word. There shouldn't be a break as long as this last one again, unless something comes up - but I'll try to warn you if it does. So here - have a super long chapter! I think it's just about as long as the last one. WHERE ARE ALL THESE WORDS COMING FROM._**

* * *

It was cold.

Fíli drew his coat tighter around himself, shivering violently. He wished he had brought his hood, but it was too late for that now. The wind whipped his hair into his face, the ends of his braids stinging his freezing skin; his eyes watered as the frigid air blew into them.

_Fool_, said a part of him. _Go home. You're ill. You shouldn't be out in this weather._

_I can't,_ said another part of him – a stronger part. _They don't want me there._

Fíli stumbled again for what felt like the thousandth time. It was a great effort to stay upright, and he had been walking for a long time now. He didn't even know where he was; he hadn't bothered to keep track. The stars and the moon were veiled, casting everything into a deep, impenetrable darkness. Though he could not see, he felt as if everything around him was spinning, first one way, then the other, sending him reeling this way and that, left and right, until all sense of direction had been lost.

He tripped over a tree root and fell, throwing his hands out for balance and landing face down in the dirt. He grunted as he scraped his hand on another root, drawing it into his chest. It stung as he touched it. He closed his fist.

Fíli reached out into the darkness with his uninjured hand and soon came upon the trunk of a tree. He pulled himself up and leaned against it, drawing his knees up to his chest. He didn't want to walk anymore. He didn't want to do anything anymore. He was alone, and he was ashamed, and he was so, so cold. His teeth chattered and his whole body shook, but still he would not consider going home. His family had proven that they didn't want him there. He had cried in front of the hearth until he couldn't cry anymore, and still neither Dís nor Thorin emerged from the bedroom. They weren't worried about him. They were only worried about Kíli, and rightly so - look what Fíli had done to his brother. If he had ever deserved their forgiveness at all, he was sure that he didn't deserve it now.

He deserved this.

He closed his eyes and allowed numbness to overcome him. The feeling in his fingers was almost gone, and he could no longer tell if his nose was running or not. Perhaps if he couldn't feel his body, he could pretend he had disappeared. Perhaps his mind would stop working, and he could forget everything that had happened in the past three weeks. Perhaps time would rewind, and he could go back to that morning and refuse when Kíli begged him to learn archery. Perhaps…

A different kind of darkness was coming over Fíli now. The night was thick around him, but this shadow spread inside his mind. He didn't know what it was, but he gave into it willingly, hoping that it would release him from the thoughts that tormented him. He drifted into unconsciousness, forgetting the world, if only for a little while.

* * *

"I've found him!"

The words wrenched Fíli from his fitful sleep. He opened his eyes and searched the darkness; a stocky frame with a forked white beard was coming his way, carrying a lantern. He squinted at the light, trying to piece together what he knew was familiar.

"Dwalin, over here!" rang the same voice. _Balin._ That's who it was. He closed his eyes again and wished he would go away. He didn't want to be found.

"Fíli! Are you all right, laddie?" Balin called. He jogged over and knelt next to the younger dwarf, setting down his lantern. Fíli made no response. Gloved hands touched his face, and he started at the sudden contact, opening his eyes to glare sullenly at his unwanted rescuer.

"Well, you're alive," said Balin grimly. He pulled off a glove and laid his bare hand on Fíli's forehead; he frowned.

"Dís was right," he muttered to himself. Dwalin appeared behind Balin with another lantern, his expression holding an uncharacteristic amount of concern.

"He's ill," Balin said over his shoulder. "Let's get him to our home. It's closest."

"Aye," said Dwalin. He squatted down and peered into Fíli's face, but the despondent dwarf avoided his gaze. This was a turn of events that he had not expected – and he was not sure if he appreciated it.

"Come on, laddie," Dwalin said. "You've been out in the cold long enough. Let's go sit by the fire."

Fíli shook his head slowly. He didn't deserve warmth. He deserved the cold. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself and ducked his head. Before he could protest, Dwalin's strong hands were under his arms, pulling him up. Everything in Fíli's sight was thrown into disarray, and his mind clouded; the world seemed to expand and shrink at the same time, and the lantern lights went out.

* * *

When Fíli came to, the first thing he noticed was that he wasn't cold anymore. He was warm, in fact. No, he was hot. He was burning – he was on fire. No, he couldn't be on fire. He put a hand on his forehead and groaned. He had a fever – that's what he felt.

The second thing he noticed was that his head hurt. No, _hurt_ was too mild of a word. It was as if someone had taken him to the anvil and was rapidly pounding his skull with a hammer, determined to flatten him into nothing. The pain rang in his ears, coursing through his head repeatedly. He furrowed his brow against it.

The third thing he noticed was that he was not at home. The realization hit him suddenly, and he sat up quickly; everything went dark again, and he fell back into the cushions underneath him.

"Easy, laddie."

Fíli opened his eyes slowly and searched the room for the source of the voice. He spotted Balin through the darkness spotting his vision, smiling kindly from his armchair and smoking his pipe. He finally gathered that he was at Balin and Dwalin's home, and he was laying on the couch in their living room, as he had done many times over the years. He sank into it now, feeling small and ridiculous. Balin pulled his pipe out of his mouth.

"You had us all worried," he said; his voice held no harshness. "Your mother especially. Dwalin is bringing her now."

Fíli stared at him, trying to process this information. His mother was worried for him. She had sent out Balin and Dwalin – and possibly others – to search for him. How long had he been gone? Why would she be so worried? It wasn't as if he hadn't gone out for hours before. He squinted as thoughts fluttered through his mind, refusing to line up or settle, and he let out a frustrated grunt. The harsh headache continued to pound.

Balin popped his pipe back into his mouth and puffed away contentedly, though Fíli could feel the old dwarf's sharp eyes boring into him. He shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, feeling like a young dwarfling in trouble yet again, but Balin would not stop looking at him. Eventually Fíli could not bear the silence – all he could hear was the pounding in his own head, pain reverberating through his skull with every throb.

"What did she tell you?" he said.

"About what, laddie?" said Balin.

"When she sent you to look for me. What did she tell you?" said Fíli. He dreaded the answer – how much did Balin know? How much did everyone know?

"She said that you were ill and… well, not right in the mind," said Balin. "That you had run off, and she was afraid that you would not return." He smiled good-naturedly. "If you're afraid that she told some secret of yours, you can rest assured that she did no such thing."

Fíli relaxed and let out a sigh of relief. So nobody knew… nobody except his immediate family and Óin. The shame of what he had done was great enough without everyone else being privy to it.

"Funny that she didn't have Thorin or Kíli with her, though," Balin said.

An icy chill of panic ran through Fíli at his words, and he struggled to keep outward composure.

"I would have thought that they would be first on the lookout for you," Balin said. "Haven't seen hide nor hair of any of you for weeks, come to think of it." He turned his keen eye on Fíli, who was at a loss for words. He struggled to think of something to say; nothing came to mind, leaving him opening and closing his mouth like a fish. He longed to escape, but he knew that he was in no condition to even sit up, let alone leave the room. He was trapped.

Balin took another puff on his pipe, letting Fíli squirm in his discomfort. After a moment, he spoke again.

"What's happened, Fíli?" he said softly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Please, Balin," Fíli whispered. He closed his eyes and willed sleep to come before he was forced to say anything else.

Balin sighed. "I've helped raise you almost as much as your mother and your uncle, Fíli," he said. "You and your brother. You know that I would do anything for you boys."

"Can you convince Kíli to stay alive?" said Fíli before he could stop himself. He bit his lip, regretting the outburst; Balin's expression changed from phlegmatic to deeply concerned, and he lowered his pipe.

"What's happened to Kíli?" he demanded.

He couldn't keep him in the dark now. He had said too much. Fíli took a shuddering breath.

"He's… he's dying, Balin," he said in a broken voice. "Kíli and I were out in the woods – about three weeks ago now, and Kíli was teaching me to shoot… and I…" he stopped as fresh guilt bubbled up, stopping his throat. He swallowed. "I shot him."

Balin's white, bushy eyebrows were drawn apart; his pipe lay forgotten on his lap. He looked at Fíli in horror – the sad, resigned horror of an old warrior who had seen too much death. Fíli looked away as hot waves of shame pulsed over him. The secret was out.

"But surely he should be mending by now," Balin said hopefully. "If it's been three weeks."

"But everything's gone _wrong!_" Fíli shouted, pounding his fist into the couch. He continued, picking up speed and volume as he spoke. "The arrow pierced his lung, and it collapsed… and then the wound got infected, and he wouldn't have survived that at all if it weren't for Thorin – and then when we thought he was finally on the mend, he caught pneumonia, of all things! And now he's saying he's too tired, he's in too much pain – he wants to give up, Balin, he won't fight anymore!" He pounded his fist into the couch again forcefully and then covered his face with his hands. "And it's all my fault."

Balin was silent for a long while, and Fíli felt as if he might drown in his shame and his guilt.

"I can see now how you've gotten so ill," Balin said quietly. "No one is meant to carry that kind of weight on their shoulders, laddie."

"It was my fault," Fíli mumbled into his hands.

"Fíli—"

The sound of the front door opening and closing reached them just then, accompanied with two sets of footsteps – the heavy gait that belonged to Dwalin, and the lighter steps that belonged to Dís. Fíli shrunk at the sound of his mother's footsteps and rolled onto his side, facing the back of the couch.

"Balin?" called Dwalin.

"In here, Brother," Balin called. The two sets of footsteps came down the hallway, and Fíli heard Dwalin stop at the door. Dís's steps quickened, and he heard the rustle of her skirts behind him as she knelt on the floor beside the couch.

"Fíli," she said anxiously. He felt her hand on his arm, and though he longed more than anything to turn and bury his face in her hair, forgetting the world for the scent of woodsmoke and soap and berries, he forced himself to remain still. He didn't deserve her love anymore.

"Is he awake?" she said.

"Yes," said Balin. Fíli swore at him in his mind, though he would never dare to do such a thing aloud. "We were just speaking."

"Did he tell you?" she said. Her thumb moved back and forth across his arm.

"He did," Balin said sadly. "Dís, why didn't you tell us?"

"Tell us what?" said Dwalin.

There was silence, and Fíli could hear his mother's breath hitch the way it did when she was trying to keep her composure.

"Come to the kitchen, Brother – let's leave Dís with Fíli," said Balin. "I'll tell you what's happened."

"Thank you," said Dís. "Both of you."

"Of course, milady," said Dwalin.

"Anything for the family of our king," said Balin. Two sets of footsteps left the room; Dís's hand tightened on Fíli's arm.

"Fíli, darling – look at me," she said. Still he stayed in place, studying the weave of fabric in the couch. Suddenly, Dís slapped him hard in the shoulder, and he jumped.

"Ow!" he complained, turning to face her.

"You had me worried sick, and now you're going to ignore me?" she said. "Sick or not, Fíli, I'm still your mother."

Fíli looked down, feeling even more ashamed. He couldn't do anything right these days, it seemed; everything he did heaped more guilt and shame upon him – an endless cycle from which he couldn't break free. He closed his eyes to avoid Dís's searching gaze.

Suddenly, Fíli found himself engulfed in his mother's embrace. He instinctively held her tight and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in her comforting scent and drinking in the love he knew he didn't deserve.

"I was so worried," she said. "I didn't know where you had gone."

"I didn't think…" Fíli said, but he stopped himself.

"What?" said Dís, breaking the embrace. Fíli let go of her reluctantly, unsure how to explain or even if he wanted to. He would much rather be held than have a conversation about his shame yet again, especially since this time, he knew that he deserved it – he had not accidentally shouted at Kíli. He shook his head and remained silent.

"What didn't you think?" she said, looking at him quizzically.

Fíli shook his head again. He didn't want to talk – he didn't want to do anything. All he wanted was to be held and comforted. He reached out for Dís's arm and pulled her close again, wrapping his arms around her and hiding his face in her shoulder.

"I've ruined everything," he said, his voice muffled by her fur coat. "I can't face them, Mum. Not after this."

Dís broke away from Fíli's arms once again, eliciting a pathetic whimper from the troubled dwarf as he clutched the sleeve of her coat. She looked at him incredulously.

"Is that why you ran off?" she said.

"Nobody came for me," he said thickly.

"Nobody came for you when?" said Dís.

Fíli told her everything – how Thorin had slammed him into the wall with a hand on his throat; how Kíli had pulled on Dís's hand as Fíli had shouted, desperate to escape him; how he had had to crawl away, too sick to walk; how he had cried for what felt like hours, and still he had been alone. Dís listened patiently, taking his hand into her own and stroking it gently.

When she had finished, she kissed his hot, pounding forehead. "I love you, Fíli," she said. "I will always love you, no matter what."

With her simple words, Dís had spoken to the very core of his pain, as she was so often wont to do – but he was still not completely comforted.

"But Kíli… and Thorin…" he said.

Dís frowned. "Fíli, your brother and your uncle love you."

Fíli remained silent, and Dís sighed.

"Fíli, do you love your brother?" she said.

"Of course," Fíli responded quickly.

"How many times have you been upset with him over the years?"

"Mum, this is _different_—"

"It's not different," she interrupted. "Now hush, and stop this." She put a hand on his forehead. "You're ill… you're not yourself. Maybe you'll think straight when you're feeling better."

Fíli felt like he hadn't thought straight in weeks, but he kept that to himself. He didn't want to talk about this anymore. His headache punished him for every moment he stayed awake; he longed to just close his eyes and stop existing for a while.

"Is Kíli all right?" he said.

Dís's mouth twisted, and she eyed Fíli apprehensively. Fíli's gut turned in fear.

"Mum?"

"He's alive," she said. "But he's… he's having trouble." She took a deep breath. "Fíli, I think it'd be best if you stayed here for a while."

"What?" Fíli exclaimed. "No, Mum, please—"

"Just until you're better," she said quickly. "I don't want him to catch whatever it is you have."

"I'll stay away, I promise," Fíli said imploringly.

"Furthermore," Dís continued, taking on an authoritative tone, "you are far too stressed, and you are not in your right mind. For your own sake – and for Kíli's – I think you need to be separated right now."

_Separated._ The word clanged through Fíli's throbbing head, and tears sprung to his eyes. He didn't _want_ to be separated from his brother. What if it wasn't a temporary thing? What if Kíli died while he was stuck somewhere else? He let out a cry as he remembered the last thing he had said to his brother before Thorin pulled him out of the room. No – those couldn't be his last words to Kíli. The mere thought drove his mind into a frenzy. He couldn't stay here. He wouldn't. He sat up and swung his feet to the floor, standing up quickly. Suddenly the room tilted; his eyes rolled in his head, and he fell forward.

"Fíli!" she shouted, reaching out to catch him. He groaned miserably and wondered where his head had gone as black spots peppered his vision. Two sets of bootsteps ran down the hall, and Balin and Dwalin appeared in the doorway. Dwalin ran forward and took Fíli out of Dís's arms, sitting him back down on the couch. Fíli protested against Dwalin's grip, but he was no match for the formidable dwarf, and he was forced to stay in place.

"Calm down, laddie," Dwalin said. "There's no use in gettin' all worked up."

"Mum, please," Fíli begged, ignoring him. "I have to come home. I can't stay here."

Dís shook her head resolutely, and Fíli shouted unintelligibly, frustration vibrating in his chest and his head. Dwalin still held him in place, his massive hands on Fíli's shoulders. Fíli glared up at him, but he shrunk under the scowl on the rugged dwarf's face. He yielded, his heart sinking.

Before he could even register what was happening, Fíli burst into tears. He pulled his knees up into his chest and covered his face with his hands, weeping wretchedly; Dwalin released his hold, and Fíli laid back down on the couch, pressing his face into the cushion. Someone put a hand on his back – Fíli neither knew nor cared who it was. He felt hot and miserable, and he had had enough. He sniffled and closed his eyes. The cushion was already wet with his tears.

"Kíli will be there when you get home," said Dís, close by his ear. "Stay here. Get well. Then you can see him."

"Tell him I'm sorry," Fíli said through his tears. "Tell him – tell him I love him, and I'm sorry."

"I'll tell him," said Dís. "Now rest." She kissed his hair, and then she was gone.

Fíli heard Balin and Dwalin leave the room, and he was grateful for their absence. He tried to stop crying, but he could not – he was completely spent. Eventually he drifted off to sleep, hiccupping softly in his slumber.

He had wanted to stop existing, and he was as close as he could get.

* * *

**_Please review! Tell me what you liked! Tell me what you didn't like! Tell me what you WOULD like! Just give me some feedback! _**


	18. Lost

_**A/N: I'm alive! This chapter was evil. I think I rewrote it, what, four times? One of THOSE monsters. Sorry for the wait. Special thanks to my new friend Mhyin and my old friend Lindenare (on dA) for their help with this chapter – it'd be super awful without all the help they gave me. Seriously, you don't even know.**_

_**Also… I had a few reviews last chapter that said things about Fíli wanting to basically kill himself, and I wanted to squash that… I'm afraid I didn't portray his feelings exactly how I'd hoped. There's a feeling that I get sometimes – maybe you do too – where I don't necessarily want to die, but I just want everything to STOP for a while. It's not a suicidal feeling. It's literally just wanting to stop existing for a while. Whenever this happens to me, I go and take a nap. So that's what happened. I don't think that Fíli is contemplating suicide at this point… he's certainly at rock bottom, but his mind hasn't gone THERE. So yeah, I just wanted to clear that up. Ahem.**_

* * *

Fíli had never felt worse in his entire life.

When he awoke the next day, everything seemed to spin and tilt, even though he had not moved. His head pounded ferociously; he could feel the fever radiating from his skin, and his clothes were soaked with sweat. He moaned miserably and covered his face with his hands, then pulled them away in confusion as he felt soft cloth against his skin. His right hand was bound with a long strip of clean, white linen; the memory of injuring it the night before came back to him. Balin or Dwalin must have bound it while he slept. Kíli was right – he did sleep soundly.

_Kíli._ He sat up quickly, ready to bolt home, but once again he found himself reeling and carefully lay back down on the couch. A strong feeling of frustration shot through him and he tensed, biting his lip as he felt an overwhelming urge to scream. He was so tired of this. Kíli was dying, and he was stuck being babysat by Balin and Dwalin, forbidden from being at his brother's side. He needed to be there, to apologize for shouting at him, to convince him to keep fighting another day until he beat this illness and made a full recovery.

Not that he would be allowed his brother if he were home, anyway. Dís would keep them separated out of fear for Kíli – and though he hated to admit it, she was right to do so. Not only that, but Thorin would surely be there, guarding Kíli from any further emotional blows. Dís's words came back to him then about Kíli's condition – _he's having trouble_ – and Fíli felt his insides contract with remorse. He had done this, and now he was not being allowed to put it right.

He had to go. He had to get back to his home, to apologize to not only Kíli, but Thorin as well. If Kíli died while he was trapped elsewhere – _no._ He couldn't even bear the thought. The very idea of Kíli being gone from this world and leaving him here alone nearly sent him over the edge, and he shrank from the notion as if it were poison.

He knew from the giddy feeling in his head that he would never make it on his own, but he would have to try. The first step was to make it out of the house without catching either Balin or Dwalin's attention. Cautiously, he raised his head, pausing every time a wave of dizziness overtook him; after about a minute, he had successfully pulled himself upright and tossed off the blanket that had covered him.

_All right,_ he told himself. _Now to stand up._

His toes touched the cold floor, and he wondered who had taken his boots. Clearly he had been deeply asleep, if they had not only managed to bandage his hand, but apparently take his boots and his coat as well. The idea of being cared for in such a way while unconscious made him squirm with mortification, and he felt a pang of sympathy for his poor brother. No wonder he had been so cross in the past weeks. This was humiliating. With a push, Fíli lifted himself off of the couch and stood to his feet, holding out his arms to steady himself as he wobbled. He could do this. He could make it. Just one foot in front of the other.

One step. Two steps. Though everything seemed to tilt and spin around him, he was making progress. Three steps. Four steps. He could do this.

He made it to the hallway before he collapsed.

Balin came running from his study at the sound of Fíli hitting the floor. He laid hand on Fíli's shoulder; Fíli jerked his arm away, trembling. Heat rose into his temples and cheeks in his humiliation. Balin ignored his obstinacy and reached for him again.

"Don't touch me," Fíli muttered, but Balin was already pulling him up. His knees buckled beneath him, and only the older dwarf's support kept him from crashing to the floor.

"Laddie, you're not going anywhere today," said Balin firmly. "Back to the couch."

"I'm going home," Fíli said. "I need to go home."

"You can go home when you're well," said Balin. "Now, come along."

"No!" said Fíli. "I have to go home – I have to tell Kíli I'm sorry – I can't stay here if he's…" He pushed away from Balin and leaned against the wall, fighting back tears. He would _not_ cry again. He had cried far too much in the past weeks. It was enough. He slid down to the floor and closed his eyes, cursing the unceasing pounding in his head.

Balin took hold of Fíli's arm and pulled him up, holding him tight around the middle and swinging the blond dwarf's arm over his shoulder.

"Come on, Fíli," he said, and Fíli had no choice but to follow; without Balin's help, he wasn't sure he would be able to stand. To his surprise, Balin led him right by the living room. Where was he taking him?

"Dwalin, I need you," Balin called.

After a few moments, Dwalin came down the hallway; he and Balin exchanged glances, and Fíli narrowed his eyes, suspicious. Balin continued to lead him on until they were in the old dwarf's bedroom, and he was pushing Fíli into his bed.

"I don't need a bed," Fíli protested, but Balin pulled the covers over him, smiling grimly.

"Stay here," he said. "You need to rest."

"But—"

"You're no use to your brother if you're ill," Balin said. "You _must_ take care of yourself, laddie."

A hot anger rose in Fíli, and his hands began to shake. Did no one _understand_? This wasn't about him. None of it was about him. This was about his brother, making sure that he knew that he was sorry for what he had done and knowing that he was _alive._ He made a motion to sit up, but Balin grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back down.

"_Stay here_," he said. Fíli fought him for a few moments, but Balin was unrelenting. He gave up and lay back, fuming. Balin stepped back, watching him sharply, and Fíli rolled onto his side, turning his back on his gaze. They would leave him alone soon – he would get home. He had to. He heard Balin whispering to Dwalin, but he couldn't make out the words; then the door closed. Fíli could hear the scraping of wood against wood outside, followed by a small _tink_ of something hitting the doorknob. Fíli blinked, perplexed; then, suddenly, he realized what he had just heard and yanked off the covers, throwing himself out of the bed and stumbling to the door. He turned the knob and pushed, but the door was stuck tight; he slammed his fist on the wood and roared.

"Let me out!" he screamed. "You can't lock me in here! Let me _out_!"

A horribly familiar feeling came over Fíli – that tightness in his mind that threatened to snap. He banged on the door again; he could hear Balin and Dwalin talking outside.

"Please!" he wailed. "Balin! Dwalin! Don't do this, please!"

No response came from the other side of the door, and Fíli felt it – an almost tangible _snap_ in his head. He let out a long, agonized scream and fell to the ground, still pounding his fists on the door. His mind was buzzing, and the haze rose again. Nothing made sense anymore. He screamed again, and he could hear the scrape of wood outside the door; seconds later, it flew open, and Dwalin was kneeling beside him.

"Fíli, what in Durin's name…?" he said, pulling the distressed dwarf up onto his knees. Fíli took the front of Dwalin's tunic in his fists, breathing hard.

"Why would you do that?" he screamed. "Why? Why would you lock me in?"

"You've got to stay here, Fíli!" Dwalin said. "Calm down, laddie. We're just trying to help."

"You locked me in!" Fíli wailed. "I have to – I have to see Kíli, I have to see him, and you're keeping me here and _you locked me in!_"

"Dwalin, get him back in the bed," said Balin from the doorway. "He's not going to go on his own."

"Please," Fíli begged. "Please…"

Dwalin lifted him up to his feet and pulled him towards the bed, ignoring his pleas, and Fíli was forced to follow. His breathing was quick and forced, and his fingers and lips began to tingle. Dwalin pushed him onto the bed and pulled his legs onto the mattress; Fíli struggled, swinging out, but Dwalin caught his arm and held it tightly, and Fíli could not pull away. He roared and flailed, trying to escape, but suddenly Balin had his legs, and Dwalin had both of his wrists. He was vaguely aware of the both of them shouting, but he could not comprehend their words any longer, thrashing and struggling against them. They would not let him go, and Fíli fought fiercely until he had no energy left, screaming and shouting curses at the both of them. Finally he became still, breathing hard, his face wet with tears. Dwalin lifted himself off of Fíli – in the struggle, he had resorted to leaning on his chest to keep him in place – but he still held his wrists. Fíli looked away from both of them plaintively.

"What's gotten a hold of you, laddie?" Dwalin said incredulously. "Makin' such a fuss…"

Fíli didn't respond. He stared at the wall, silent tears falling down his cheeks. All he could think of was his Kíli and how he might never see him again. Finally, Balin and Dwalin let go of him, and he curled onto his side, facing the wall. Balin said something in a low voice to Dwalin, but Fíli was too upset to care anymore. He was exhausted, and his head hurt, and he felt foolish for having been so out of control; he closed his eyes and wished for sleep to come and take him away from this horror of a life.

* * *

_Creak._

Fíli opened his eyes and turned towards the door; it had opened, but neither Balin nor Dwalin came forth. He stared at it, perplexed.

"Hello?" he called out.

The sound of shuffling feet met Fíli's ears, and he craned his neck to see who was coming through the door so slowly. A dark, messy mop of hair became visible, and then Kíli walked slowly into the room. Fíli's heart leapt into his throat.

"Kíli, what are you doing here?" he said, desperate to run to his brother, but for some reason, he could not move from the bed. He looked on desperately as Kíli lifted his head. His eyes were dark and lifeless, and a trail of blood dripped down his chin.

"Kíli!" Fíli shouted, panicked now. Kíli collapsed and laid on the floor, and Fíli suddenly found himself out of bed and running towards his brother, but he didn't make it – the ground came up to meet him, and his head hit the floor with a sickening _crack_.

Feet came running down the hallway, and Fíli felt hands under his arms, pulling him up. Try as he might, he could not get his eyes to focus, and lights seemed to flash from every direction. He groaned. Suddenly he was weightless, and then he was on the bed again, his head against the pillow. There was a loud ringing coming from somewhere…

"Fíli, can you hear me?" came a voice from somewhere. Fíli tried to find the source, but everything was moving and it wouldn't stop. Hands touched his face, and a blurred form came into view.

"Fíli, are you with us?" said another voice. He blinked and tried to clear his mind, but the ringing in his ears was driving him crazy. With a moan, he closed his eyes, but somehow the flashes of light were still there.

Someone was touching his forehead now. He opened his eyes again and looked for the person touching him; finally, he was able to make out three forms. There was Balin, and Dwalin, and – Óin? What was he doing here?

"Where's Kíli?" he said.

"He's at home, lad," said Óin. "Where else would he be?"

"No, he was… just here," Fíli said, his words slurring together. By Durin, his head hurt. He reached up to put a hand on his pounding head, but it was swatted away. Óin was close to his face now.

"He's at home, Fíli," said Óin. "You were dreaming."

_Of course, _Fíli thought. Why would Kíli be here? He was dying. They were supposed to stay separate.

"How many fingers am I holding up, lad?" Óin said. Fíli looked at his hand, but he could not tell. The number changed from two to four as his eyes swam.

"Iunno," he mumbled. "I don't… care."

Óin sighed and disappeared from view for a moment; Fíli reached up and touched his forehead. It hurt so badly… his fingers touched wetness, and he pulled his hand away and looked at it. His fingertips were red.

"Yes, you're bleeding," said Óin. "You cracked your head nicely there, lad."

One more thing to add to the list. This had to be one of the worst days of his life.

"Hold still," Óin said, and without any further warning, he put a wet cloth on Fíli's forehead. Fíli hissed as it stung, but Óin removed it quickly.

"Tell me your name," said Óin.

Fíli gave him a quizzical look. "What?" he said.

"Your name. Tell me your name."

"Fíli," he said.

"Good. And your mother's name?"

"Dís…"

"And your brother?"

"Kíli. What are you doing?"

"Checking for concussion," Óin said. He stared at his patient, his mouth twisted thoughtfully. "Hard to tell with you. You've already got most of the symptoms, from what I hear."

Fíli closed his eyes and let his head sink into the pillow. His head hurt _so_ badly, and he just wanted to go back to sleep.

"No, I need you to stay awake a little longer," said Óin kindly. "Dwalin, sit him up."

Large arms slid under Fíli's back, and he was lifted up as pillows were placed behind him. Dwalin laid him back gently, and he leaned into the support gratefully. Óin was back at his side, smearing something on his forehead. Fíli winced as his rough touch stung.

"Sorry, lad," Óin said. "You'll be fine now." Finished, he straightened and studied Fíli's face. Fíli tried to stare back, but he couldn't stop his eyes from rolling in his head, focusing and unfocusing without his consent. Why was Óin here? If Kíli wasn't here…

"Give me a few minutes with him," Óin said, and Balin and Dwalin quietly left the room. Fíli's mind was reeling as he sank deeper in his confusion. What was going on?

"How are you feeling, Fíli?" Óin said.

Fíli squinted up at his face and furrowed his brow. "Why are you here?" he said.

"Balin called for me," Óin said. "He was worried for you. And with good reason, it seems. I'll ask you again. How are you feeling?"

"Awful," Fíli said honestly.

"Headache?" said Óin.

"Yes. An awful pounding one. It won't go away."

"Anything else?"

"I can't sit up or stand without feeling dizzy. And I'm so hot…"

Óin nodded thoughtfully. "Is that it?"

"I think so," Fíli said. "But never mind me. What about—"

"I'm not here to talk about your brother," Óin said sharply. "I am here to see how _you_ are doing."

"But Kíli…" Fíli trailed off, grieved. Here was one more person who simply didn't understand. No one seemed to be able to understand.

"Kíli is working hard to recover, and so should you. You'll be fine with some good rest," Óin said. "Now let me make sure you're all right."

Fíli held still, and Óin examined him, looking in his eyes and taking a second look at the growing lump on his head. He hummed quietly to himself as he worked, and Fíli's mind wandered into a confused jumble of thoughts.

"Fíli, listen to me, lad. I need your full attention."

Fíli pulled himself out of his reverie and looked at him dolefully, giving him as much attention as he could muster with his muddled mind.

"You need to _rest_," Óin said seriously. "No getting up, no running off, and no having fits. Stay in bed and sleep as much as you can."

"But—"

"No _buts_," said Óin. "I will be telling Balin and Dwalin to keep an eye on you. I know you want to be with your brother, but you should not be going so far until you are feeling better. Do you understand?"

Though tears sprang once again to Fíli's eyes, he nodded. Óin smiled kindly and gathered his supplies.

"_Rest_," Óin said. He left the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

Fíli slammed his hand down onto the mattress angrily. Everyone was keeping him from his Kíli, and every moment that he was away filled him with more dread and more yearning. He never should have run off, no matter how ashamed he had felt. He had brought this upon himself.

He was so sick and tired of everything. He was so sick and tired of feeling miserable and ill and afraid, but every day only brought him further misery. He wanted everything to be better now. He wanted to see Kíli smiling, healthy and whole, and he feared the he would never see the sunshine of his brother's happy face ever again. He was so sick and tired of the dark, oppressive gloom that had hung over his life since that morning out in the woods; he was so sick and tired of crying every day in his fear and distress. Even so, he could not stop the tears now, and he shoved the extra pillows away and buried his face in the one remaining. He did not hold back; his body shook with sobs until he couldn't cry anymore, and then he lay still, drained.

He became aware of someone's presence in the room, and he pulled his face out of the pillow, searching the room for the intruder. Balin sat in an armchair near the bed, his hands folded on his lap. Heat rose in Fíli's cheeks at the thought that Balin had probably heard and seen him crying so pitifully, and he stuffed his face back into the pillow, ignoring his old friend.

"There's no shame in it, Fíli," Balin said. "I understand."

"No, you don't," Fíli mumbled into the pillow.

Balin was silent for a moment. "I've never gone through exactly what you're going through, laddie," said Balin, "but there is no shame in tears, especially for those that you love. I've lost many that I loved, and I've shed many tears."

Fíli turned to look at Balin, his heart moved with sympathy as he realized that he had never considered how much Balin had lost. His home, his way of life, and many, many of his friends and family – and more than once. He was an old dwarf, and he had lived through the seize of Erebor and many battles – including the Battle of Azanulbizar. Here was someone who was well acquainted with loss – someone who surely understood.

"I'm sorry, Balin," he said quietly, humbled.

Balin smiled affectionately. "The point is, Fíli, that I know that it is hard lose someone you care about – or feel that you may lose them," he said. "But we have to take care of ourselves, as well. You're no use to Kíli if you keep running off, doing things that will only make you worse. I'm sure he wants you by his side as much as you want to be there, but acting as you have will only prolong your separation from him."

Fíli looked down, chagrined. He had been so foolish. Everything he had done for the past few weeks had been foolish - keeping himself awake far too long; stressing himself to tears; allowing his emotions to get the better of him. Balin was right. He was no use to his brother like this.

"What do I do?" he said.

"Just rest," Balin said. "Sleep. Óin left us with a draught, if you'd like it."

Fíli grimaced at the thought of taking one of Óin's disgusting draughts. The old codger could learn to put _something_ that tasted good in them, at least. Balin chuckled at the look on Fíli's face.

"Never mind," he said. "You just get some rest, laddie." He rose to leave.

"Thank you, Balin," Fíli said. "For tolerating me and my… stubbornness."

"I've known you for thirty years, Fíli – I'm well-acquainted with your stubbornness," said Balin good-naturedly. He left the room, leaving Fíli to his rest.

* * *

_**I just want to say that I know that Fíli's breakdown seems a bit extreme – but it's not. I wrote it from 100% personal experience, and what I was going through at the time was not even this serious. Actually, most of Fíli's actions in this chapter are from personal experience. I swear I'm usually a stable person. xD**_

_**I need to once again direct you to lilis-gallery on deviantART! She's got fanart of chapters 1-3 in her gallery, and she's told me that she's working on 4 & 5 right now! Also I'd like to direct you to my new friend mhyin on tumblr, who posted some lovely fanart inspired by this fic (you should be able to find it under the "My Art and Myself" tag) that you should all look at because it gave me so many feels that I could barely handle it. I'd give you links but this website hides them. BUT GO LOOK!**_

_**Oh, and if you want to follow me on dA or tumblr, my usernames are snurtz and wonderingsandwitticisms, respectively. :D**_

_**Please review! It makes my heart sing!**_

_**OH MY GOD I almost forgot! Check out my profile - there's a oneshot there entitled "Fighting the Darkness", which is from Kili's POV during and after the events of Chapter 16. If you're interested, take a look! BUT REVIEW FIRST!  
**_


	19. Reunion

_**A/N: I had so much wonderful help with this chapter! Special thanks to my lovely dA friend Lindenare, who puts up with me assaulting her with paragraphs all the time; also special thanks to my two new friends Mhyin and cecania13, who also put up with me begging them to read parts of this and make sure they were good. You guys are awesome, and I love you.**_

_**I really loved writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoy it. It still feels a bit off to me, but... I still love it. I hope you enjoy it!**_

* * *

Fíli wanted nothing more than to dash out of bed and run home to be at Kíli's side, but Balin had managed to show him sense; in spite of his longing, he forced himself to stay in bed and get well. Sleep came easily to him, and the next two days flew by as he slumbered.

On the third day in Balin and Dwalin's care, Fíli awoke to discover that the pounding in his head had reduced to a very light throbbing. He sat up carefully, testing his balance; to his delight, he found that he could sit up completely with no dizziness. He threw off his covers and jumped out of bed, and suddenly, the vertigo returned. Fíli paused for a moment and waited, hoping it would pass, and it did. He smiled. Still not completely healed, but well enough. Well enough to go home.

"Balin? Dwalin?" he called. He twisted the doorknob and pushed at the door cautiously, and found it unlocked. So they trusted him enough to stay in bed – that was a relief. Though they had never said anything to him, Fíli knew that they had locked him in on the second day of his recovery, and he had heard them both checking in on him often as he tried to sleep. But now he had proven himself to be of sounder mind. His thoughts had definitely cleared in the past couple of days – though he yearned to be home above anything else, he was able to think rationally, and he now cringed at his frantic behavior of the past days and even weeks. How had he let himself get so low?

Fíli made his way down the hallway until he came to Balin's study. The door was shut; he knocked lightly, and Balin's voice came from within.

"Come in."

Fíli pushed the door open and poked his head in tentatively. Balin turned away from his desk and studied Fíli's face.

"Should you be out of bed?" he said.

"I feel much better," Fíli said defensively, stepping into the room. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

Balin looked him up and down apprehensively. "That's good news," he said. "I imagine you're here to tell me you'd like to go home."

A tight knot twisted in Fíli's stomach, and he nodded. Just hearing the word _home_ said aloud made his heart ache that much more. He was longing to know how Kíli was doing. He knew that he had to be alive – someone would have told him if he had died, and besides, he just had a feeling that if Kíli died, he would _know_. He wasn't sure how, but he was certain of it.

"You're having no symptoms whatsoever?" Balin said.

Fíli hesitated, thinking of the throbbing that still plagued him and the dizziness he had encountered when he had first stood. Balin eyed him sharply.

"Don't lie to me, laddie," he said.

"Well… I was… I mean, I felt a _little_ dizzy I first got up, but…"

"Fíli, I think you should stay until you are completely well," Balin said. "You don't want to fall ill again, do you?"

"I haven't had news from home in three days," Fíli said passionately. "I've been _so_ patient, and I think—"

"Fíli, just stay one more day at least," said Balin. "This is about _you_. _You_ need to recover. You've put yourself through quite an ordeal in the past weeks, laddie."

"But Kíli—"

"Will be fine," said Balin. "I am sure of it. One more day, Fíli. Get your full strength back. Then you can be strong for your brother."

Fíli hated to admit it, but there was reason in Balin's words. Frustration burned in his abdomen. He wanted to go home and apologize to Kíli – he had been so cruel to him, and he knew that Kíli never did well when he thought someone was angry at him. He was so eager to remain in everyone's good graces that it ate away at him when he wasn't, especially when he was at odds with Fíli, and he could work himself into quite a tizzy about it. Even still, Kíli could still be struggling, and Fíli knew that he would want to be there for him as much as possible – if he got sick again, he could be removed from Kíli's presence for even longer.

With a twinge of regret and a good deal of reluctance, Fíli nodded. One more day. Then he was going home, and no one could stop him.

* * *

The next day could not come soon enough. Fíli was feeling much better, and he wasted no time in saying his thank yous and goodbyes to Balin and Dwalin and heading home. The day was cold and blustery, and the sky was overcast, but Fíli didn't mind. He was going home, and he was going to see Kíli. He went quickly, unperturbed by the frigid air; it almost felt good after being cooped up in bed for so long. He wondered how Kíli was feeling – if he felt the same way, kept inside for weeks and required to stay in bed.

He made it home in record time, and Fíli had to force himself not to burst into the house, lest he wake his potentially slumbering brother; he opened the door quietly and closed it behind him, then looked around. The kitchen was empty, but the fire burned bright – someone must be nearby. He hung up his coat and pulled off his boots, peering down the hallway. Both Dís and Thorin's doors were open. Where were they? He made his way over to the entrance to the living room and looked in; in front of the fire sat Thorin, his chin against his chest, snoring gently. Fíli felt a wave of relief – he wouldn't have to talk to Thorin. Not yet. He brought his hand to his throat at the memory of the last time he had seen his uncle, and his stomach twisted. No, Thorin could sleep for now. Kíli was the priority.

Fíli strode over to his and Kíli's bedroom door eagerly and pushed it open. He stepped in quietly; Dís was sitting beside the bed, holding Kíli's hand as he slept. She looked up from her seat, and her eyes lit up as she looked upon her eldest son.

"Fíli!" she cried softly. She released Kíli's hand and leapt up to embrace him. He wrapped his arms around her and dropped his face onto her shoulder, breathing her in and drawing in comfort. For a few long moments, Fíli forgot about everything and just held his mother; in her arms, the past few days of illness and misery seemed to melt away, and he knew everything would be okay. He was home now.

Eventually, Fíli broke away and looked to Kíli. He was still peacefully asleep, and Fíli watched him closely, looking for signs of improvement.

"How is he?" he said.

"Better… and worse," said Dís.

Fíli turned to look at her, puzzled.

"He's breathing better, and his coughing fits are fewer, but… he's been very upset," she continued.

Guilt twisted in Fíli's gut. "What is he upset about?" he asked, though he was sure he knew the answer.

Dís sighed and took Fíli's hands in her own. "Fíli, you mustn't blame yourself," she said. "Please don't feel guilty about this."

"He thought I was angry at him," Fíli said softly. Try as he might to listen to his mother, the twist of guilt remained. Kíli had been distressed – deathly ill and distressed – because of what he had done.

"He has been asking for you for days," Dís said. "We've been trying to tell him that you'll be back, but he's been so depressed… please, Fíli, stay here with him for a while. Talk to him. He needs you."

"I'll stay here as long as I need to," Fíli replied. "I've wanted to be at his side for as long as he's wanted me there." He smiled sadly. Dís stepped backward and looked him over, frowning as she spotted the healing bruise and cut on his forehead.

"Fíli, what happened?" she said, pushing his hair aside to get a better look. Fíli pulled away from her hand, wincing as she touched the sensitive spot.

"I fell, is all," he said. "I'm fine."

"How did you fall?"

Fíli sighed. "Do we have to get into this?" he said. "I'm fine, really…"

Dís looked at him long and hard, and Fíli knew that he had no choice but to explain. He looked down at the floor.

"I had a nightmare," he said quietly. "About Kíli. I thought I saw him. I don't know how it happened – I was in bed, and then I wasn't, and I hit the floor."

"You don't remember getting out of bed?"

"Not at all," Fíli said. "But I'm _fine_, Mum. I don't think I even had a concussion."

Dís was still looking at him with that stern look in her eye, and Fíli quailed.

"Okay, maybe a little," he said, "but I'm okay now. I promise."

Dís laid a hand on his cheek and smiled softly. "Well, I'm glad you're home," she said. "If you're sure you're all right, I'll leave you with him."

"Mum, I swear, I am," Fíli said.

"All right," said Dís softly. She kissed his cheek and left the room.

Fíli sat down in the chair at the bedside and studied his little brother. His breaths seemed to be deeper and stronger, and he had gained back some of his color; still, he looked gaunt and weary, even in his sleep. Fíli gently took his hand and stroked it with his thumb, wishing that he could give him some of his new vigor to help him along the way.

Kíli stirred at his brother's touch, and Fíli stopped abruptly, not wanting to wake him, but it was too late. Kíli's eyes slowly opened; for a moment, he focused on nothing, and Fíli squeezed his hand. Kíli's brow furrowed and he turned his head.

At the sight of his brother, a grand smile broke across Kíli's face like a brilliant ray of sunshine - a smile so sincere and bright that it almost seemed to make the room grow dim. He squeezed Fíli's hand excitedly.

"Fíli!" he cried, his voice stronger than Fíli had thought possible. Without warning, Kíli reached forward and grabbed the front of Fíli's shirt, pulling him into a crushing hug with surprising strength. After he got over his surprise, Fíli returned the strong embrace, his heart singing with joy. Kíli was alive. He was mending. Everything was going to be all right.

Neither Fíli nor Kíli seemed to be able or willing to let go. Fíli moved to the side of the bed and pulled Kíli up into a sitting position, and Kíli wrapped his arms tighter around his big brother; a small hum escaped his lips. Nothing was said for a long time between them.

"I'm so sorry," Kíli finally said, his voice muffled by Fíli's shoulder.

"What ever for?" said Fíli, still not ready to let go.

"I gave up," Kíli said. His voice began to crack. "I was going to leave you… I'm so sorry, Fíli. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, calm down," Fíli said as Kíli started to sniffle into his shoulder. "I'm not angry with you, Kíli."

Fingers clenched the fabric on the back of Fíli's shirt. "You're not?"

"I'm not," Fíli said. "I… I actually wanted to say I was sorry to you."

"No, you were right," Kíli said. "I lost my way. I didn't even think… what it'd be like for you…"

Fíli broke away and took his brother's face in his hands; shining brown eyes met fierce blue.

"I almost killed you, Kíli," he said. "Right or wrong, I never could have borne that. Please forgive me."

Kíli nodded and leaned forward, resting his head on Fíli's chest. He took slow, careful breaths to calm himself, and Fíli hugged him close again.

"Stay with me," Kíli said. "Please."

"I'm not going anywhere," Fíli said. "I'll stay as long as you want."

Kíli looked up and smiled, but his smile turned into a frown.

"What?" Fíli said.

Kíli reached up and gingerly touched his forehead. "How did you—"

"I fell," Fíli said lightly, unwilling to touch the subject again, especially with Kíli. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Kíli looked at him sharply. "It looks terrible," he said.

Fíli shook his head. "It's fine," he said. "_I'm_ fine. I'm more worried about _you._ How are you feeling?"

Kíli's expression twisted, and he leaned back into Fíli.

"Better, but still awful," Kíli said. "It still hurts."

Fíli's heart moved with compassion towards his little brother, and he gripped him tighter, never wanting to let go. He wished once again that he could make everything better in an instant – that Kíli didn't have to go through all of this, that he could just take it all away. But he couldn't. He could only be there for him to help him through.

"I stayed for you," Kíli said.

Fíli furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?" he said.

"It was so hard, especially at first," said Kíli. His grip tightened on his brother. "I had to push the darkness away, and it was _so_ hard… but I couldn't leave you here alone." He stopped, winded by his speech; Fíli said nothing, and he continued.

"If you hadn't said what you did—"

"I shouted at you."

"Yes, but I needed it," said Kíli ardently. "You kept me here." Kíli tried to move in closer, but he grunted as the pain stopped him.

"Hold on," Fíli said. He laid Kíli back into his pillows and moved further onto the bed, leaning against the headboard next to his brother. Kíli immediately moved to lay his head on his chest, and Fíli smiled, wondering if his baby brother would ever grow up. He took pieces of Kíli's hair and began to braid it, but Kíli swatted his hands away as soon as he realized what he was doing.

"Cut it out," he said.

"Your hair is a disaster," Fíli said, taking hold of it again. Kíli swatted at him again.

"So is yours," he retorted. "Have you seen yourself?"

Fíli ran his fingers through his own hair and chuckled. Kíli was right – it was a mess of snarls and ruined braids. He would have to fix it later.

"We're a mess, aren't we?" Fíli said.

Kíli laughed and then suddenly stiffened.

"Oh, no," he moaned, gripping Fíli's shirt tightly. Before the elder dwarf could react, Kíli began to cough, and he pulled him close, his heart sinking. So this was still happening. Kíli fought for air, gasping painfully; eventually the spasm stopped, and he rested in Fíli's arms, trembling.

"All right?" Fíli said.

Kíli nodded and pulled himself as close to his brother as he could; Fíli simply held him as he struggled to regain control. He took in deep breaths, cut short each time he reached his limit. Though Fíli was troubled and his heart pounded, it brought him relief to see that at least Kíli was safe from the throes of death.

"Just… stay," Kíli gasped, relaxing in Fíli's arms.

"I'm staying," Fíli said. "I'm not going anywhere. Just rest, all right?"

Kíli closed his eyes and nodded again, a small smile on his face despite his pain. He lay quietly, and Fíli said nothing more, content simply to be near him.

_You'll be better soon, Kíli,_ Fíli thought. _The worst is over._

* * *

**_They're not out of the woods yet, but they're getting there! D_****_on't forget to check out lilis-gallery on deviantART for more illustrations! And if you'd like to help beta/give suggestions for this fic, follow wonderingsandwitticisms on tumblr - that's me, and sometimes I put out pleas for help. _**

**_Please review - what did you like/not like? What would you like to see in the future? In-depth reviews are always greatly appreciated!  
_**


	20. Unease

_**A/N: Sorry to keep you waiting, babes! It took me a while to get in the groove for this chapter... I've been working on it every single day. And here it is! Special thanks to my lovely friend Nalbal for all her writing help and all of her squeals and feels. She's the best, guys. Go read her fic. I love it so much.**_

* * *

Kíli did not want Fíli to leave his side, and Fíli was glad of it; he did not want to leave Kíli either after being separated from him for so long, and it was a perfect excuse to avoid speaking to his uncle. Apparently Thorin was avoiding him, as well – he had not stopped in once to see Kíli since Fíli had come home. Kíli had not seemed to notice his absence, as his time was mostly spent sleeping or attempting to sleep. Though he claimed that the pain was not as severe as it had been before, Fíli was not sure that he believed him, and he watched him carefully; even in his sleep, Kíli often grimaced, and his breathing was still shallower than it should have been. Fíli suspected that the pain had not lessened as much as Kíli had learned to tolerate it.

Fíli's suspicions were proven later that day as Kíli succumbed to another spasm. It was stronger than the one earlier in the day; Fíli helped him sit up, and he immediately doubled over, his body too weak to hold himself upright. Fíli pulled him up again, but Kíli shook his head between coughs; perplexed, Fíli allowed him to bend. Almost immediately the sickly dwarf coughed so hard that he retched. With one swift motion, Fíli leaned him over the side of the bed, and Kíli vomited onto the floor.

"Mum!" Fíli called frantically.

Dís came running into the room at her son's call as Kíli retched again, tears streaming down his face. She met Fíli's eyes, sighing wearily.

"He's still doing this?" Fíli said, his voice higher than usual.

Dís nodded sadly. "Have you got him?" she said. "I'll get him some water."

"I've got him," said Fíli, and Dís disappeared from the doorway. Kíli retched against fruitlessly and then coughed weakly, exhausted. He gasped tearfully, and Fíli rubbed his back slowly. _Be calm,_ he reminded himself. _Be strong for Kíli._

"All right?" he said. The younger dwarf nodded, and Fíli pulled him upright; Kíli's dark head fell into his chest as he focused on simply breathing. Dís entered the room with a cup of water. She stepped around the sick and handed the cup to Fíli, then left again to retrieve her cleaning supplies.

Fíli put the cup in Kíli's hands, and the younger dwarf shakily brought it to his lips; he drank cautiously and handed the cup to Fíli when he had finished. Fíli set the cup aside and held Kíli to himself, waiting for his breathing to become less frantic.

"Calm down," Fíli said gently. "You're all right."

Kíli moaned in response, resting a trembling hand on his stomach. He grimaced, turning his face into Fíli's shirt.

"Why won't it stop?" Kíli whispered. "I just want it to stop."  
"It will," said Fíli. "You just have to—"

"I'm _tired_ of this!" Kíli said shrilly, his voice cracking. His hands balled up into fists. "I just want to – to be able to _breathe_, to sit up and walk on my own – I'm so _useless_—"

"Kíli, _stop_," said Fíli.

Kíli closed his mouth, breathing heavily through his nose, and Fíli knew from years of experience that his little brother was losing the battle against his emotions. He shifted so that he was sitting facing Kíli, who instantly wrapped his arms around Fíli's torso and dropped his head onto his shoulder. Muffled sobs soon came from beneath the mop of dark hair.

Dís re-entered the room, her arms laden with towels and a mop and bucket. Seeing the scene before her, she stopped, cautious of disturbing the moment, but Fíli nodded to her in silent welcome. She dutifully started cleaning up the mess left on the floor, taking care to be quiet.

Moments later, Thorin appeared in the doorway, peering in cautiously.

"Is everything all right?" he said to Dís. His gaze flicked over to Fíli, and their eyes met; Fíli looked away quickly, feeling shame rise up in him again, and he rested his chin on Kíli's shuddering shoulder, staring at the wall.

"He's fine now," Dís replied.

Thorin grunted, and Fíli heard him walk away. He lifted his head again, relieved to be left unaddressed; however, his mother was clearly displeased. She finished cleaning furiously, threw the towels in the bucket, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Kíli jumped and raised his head, startled out of his tears.

"What was that about?" he said.

Before Fíli could respond, Dís was shouting.

"Thorin, you get back here _right now_!"

Kíli looked toward the door, then back to Fíli, confusion crossing his face. Fíli looked from him to the door, cringing as he imagined what was coming next.

"Dís, what in Durin's name—"

"How long are you going to ignore my son?" she yelled. "He deserves an apology from you, not this silence! After what you did to him – in the state he was in – he could have _died_ if I had not gone after him! Running out in the cold like that… because of what _you_ did!"

"What _I_ did? Dís, he was sick and confused—"

"_And you slammed him into the wall by his throat!_"

Kíli turned to Fíli, wide-eyed, but Fíli avoided his gaze, his heart sinking. He hadn't wanted to worry his brother with this, but it was all coming out, whether he wanted it to or not.

"Fíli?" Kíli breathed, but Fíli did not respond.

Thorin's voice rumbled in from the kitchen. "He was causing Kíli distress, Dís. Someone had to stop him."

"You don't treat my son like that, Thorin! Especially when he's sick! Do you even know the extent of what you did to him?"

"Mum, no," Fíli whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. _Not so Kíli can hear._

There was a pause. "What do you mean?"

Fíli shook his head and cringed. Why had he told her everything? He regretted it now.

"After you _dropped_ him on the floor, he couldn't even walk, brother," said Dís. "He pulled himself into the living room on his hands and knees. I don't know how he managed to get outside in his condition, but when Balin and Dwalin found him, he was so ill that he fainted in Dwalin's arms. He was practically delirious." She paused, and Thorin said nothing. Fíli could feel Kíli's eyes burning into him, but he still could not look his little brother in the eye.

"He never would have gone at all if you had treated him with dignity," Dís said.

"I didn't know," Thorin said, his voice low and penitent.

"And you didn't think, either," said Dís hotly. "You apologize to him, Thorin. And soon."

Fíli heard the outside door slam, and then there was silence. He felt Kíli's hand on his arm.

"Fíli…?"

"I'm fine now, Kíli," Fíli said.

Kíli took Fíli's face in his hand and lifted his head, forcing Fíli to look at him. His expression was drawn in worry.

"Don't worry about me, Kíli," Fíli said, forcing a smile. "I'm all right."

Kíli studied his brother's face intently and nodded, seemingly satisfied. His face suddenly twisted as he leaned forward, a cough exploding from his throat. Fíli reached out to support him, but Kíli waved him off.

"M'fine," Kíli croaked. He coughed once more and groaned, but he did not dissolve into another fit. Fíli put a hand on his little brother's shoulder, and Kíli reached up and took his arm, bowing his head and taking steady breaths.

Just then there was a knock on the door, and Fíli and Kíli both looked up. The door opened, and Thorin stood rigidly in the doorway, his face drawn; Fíli thought he caught a shine in his eyes, but he couldn't be sure. He locked eyes with Fíli, who felt a surge of discomfort rising from his stomach to his temples. Kíli's hand found his brother's, and the elder dwarf turned to look at the younger; Kíli was staring at Thorin, his eyes narrowed, and he tightened his grip on his brother's hand.

"Fíli, I'd like to speak to you," Thorin said. "Privately."

Fíli ducked his head, his discomfort growing by the second. Kíli turned to his brother and tugged his hand, shaking his head faintly.

"Stay," Kíli mouthed.

Fíli looked from Kíli to Thorin, unsure what to do. Kíli tugged at his hand again, his eyes wide, but Thorin's gaze was pleading.

"Fíli," said Kíli urgently. He took Fíli by the wrist now and shook his head more fervently.

Sad eyes flicked from Fíli to Kíli, and the younger dwarf glared, his eyes flashing; the fire in his eyes made Thorin wince, and he sighed, his rigid pose melting as his shoulders hunched over.

"Later?" he said softly.

Fíli nodded reluctantly. He would have to face him sooner or later. Thorin stood in the doorway for a few more moments, looking dolefully at his nephews; Kíli met his gaze fiercely, and the two seemed to wrestle silently for a few moments before Thorin looked away. He retreated, closing the door behind him.

"Kíli, what was that about?" Fíli said.

Kíli was staring at the door sourly, his hand still firmly clamped around his brother's wrist.

"He hurt you," Kíli said, his voice shaking.

"Kíli, I told you, I'm—"

"I heard him do it!" Kíli burst out. He turned to face Fíli, the fire in his eyes gone, a melancholy shine taking its place. Fíli furrowed his brow, confused.

"Heard him what?"

"When he pulled you out of the room – I heard you hit the wall," said Kíli. "The walls _shook_. I was too sick then to think on it… but now that I know…" He dropped his head onto Fíli's shoulder.

"I didn't think he would do something like that," Kíli mumbled.

Fíli thought back to that night, remembering the wrathful fire that burned in Thorin's eyes and how his hand had clutched his throat – how terrified he had been. Thorin had betrayed his own words, words he had spoken to Fíli the day of the accident: _I've seen the way you shrink in my presence, as if you are expecting me to strike you… but I would that you were not afraid of me._

"I didn't either," Fíli said.

Kíli breathed as deeply as he could and let out a shaky breath.

"Please stay," he said. "You've been gone for days." Kíli took another shuddering breath. "I needed you, and they kept you away."

"I was the one who ran off, Kíli," Fíli said.

"Well, whose fault is that?" said Kíli bitterly. "I heard what Thorin did. I know Mum made you stay away." Fingers curled into the fabric of Fíli's shirt. "I asked for you over and over, and they wouldn't tell me anything."

"Maybe they just didn't want to worry you," said Fíli.

"Don't make excuses for them," said Kíli. "Don't."

Fíli sat silently, troubled. He had not realized how deeply his absence had affected Kíli until now, and his brother's current behavior was worrying; Fíli wondered at the soundness of his mind. Perhaps it actually _had_ been a bad idea to keep them separated – Fíli knew that the only reason that he was of a clearer mind was because he had finally listened to reason, and Kíli was not one to listen to reason when he was upset. He seemed to have folded into himself, pulling away from their mother and their uncle in his distress, though Fíli had to give him credit for still fighting for life in his absence.

_This is a disaster,_ Fíli thought. Not only were he and Thorin at odds, but Kíli was angry with both Thorin _and _their mother, it seemed. He wished that Dís had not chosen to reveal everything that had happened in Kíli's earshot. It was one mistake after another, and it was leading down a road that Fíli was sure that he didn't want to take.

Kíli made a small noise on Fíli's shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts and back into the real world. Another sound – something like mumbling – came out from beneath the curtain of dark hair, and Fíli smiled fondly. Kíli had fallen asleep.

Carefully, Fíli lowered his slumbering brother into his pillows and pulled the covers over him. He watched him for a while, glad to see improvement in his breathing; then, he looked towards the door. If Kíli were asleep, he wouldn't know that Fíli was missing from his side. Though he dreaded talking to Thorin, he had seen the sad look in his uncle's eyes, and it was not often – almost unheard of – that the iron-willed dwarf was in a repentant mood.

Fíli slipped off the bed as smoothly as he could, wary of waking his brother; if Kíli knew that he was leaving, he would certainly make a scene. He stood beside the bed, watching Kíli carefully, but the young dwarf stayed peacefully asleep.

He found Thorin in the living room, smoking his pipe by the fire and staring pensively into the flames. He stood in the doorway, uncertain; Thorin looked up, his eyes lightening when they fell upon his nephew.

"Kíli's asleep," Fíli said.

Thorin grunted. "Is that how you got away?" he said.

Fíli nodded. "He didn't want me to leave his side."

"Well then, I won't keep you long," said Thorin. "Please sit."

Fíli made his way into the room and sat across from his uncle, fidgeting. These talks seemed to be becoming a regular thing these days, and Fíli wasn't sure he liked it. He looked down and waited for Thorin to say something.

"I broke my word," Thorin said sorrowfully. "I told you that you should not be afraid of me – that I would not hurt you – and I did. I lost control, Fíli. I was frightened, and I overreacted. I am sorry. I hope that you can forgive me."

Fíli looked up, shocked. "You were frightened?" he said incredulously.

Thorin nodded. "I was afraid for Kíli," he said. "I thought that he might – that we might lose him." His deep blue eyes shone as he looked at his nephew. "I've lost so many of my kin – and you two are…" he stopped and looked down at his lap. "I can't lose you," he said. "Either of you. But I didn't realize how ill you were, Fíli… not that I should have if you weren't—"

"It's all right," Fíli said. "I understand now."

Thorin dipped his head gratefully, relaxing back into his chair with a relieved smile. He took another puff of his pipe, seemingly deep in thought.

"Kíli is angry with me," he said. It was a statement, but Fíli heard the question behind it: _Why?_

Fíli looked at Thorin apprehensively, thinking on Kíli's bitter words. He wished once again that Kíli was ignorant of his illness in the previous days – he could do with one less problem.

"I think he's just exhausted," he said. "I'll talk to him."

Thorin nodded, seemingly satisfied with his evasive answer. He put his pipe back in his mouth and puffed away; Fíli took it as his dismissal and stood, eager to return to Kíli before he awoke.

Before Fíli reached the bedroom, a sharp keen arose from inside, and Fíli started; the wail was followed by an anguished cry.

_"Fíli!"_

Fíli ran into the room, his heart pounding; Kíli turned as the door opened and scrambled to sit up, gritting his teeth against his sore muscles. Fíli rushed to the side of the bed and pushed him back down.

"By Durin, Kíli, what on earth is the matter?" he said.

"I woke up and you were gone," Kíli said hoarsely. "I didn't know where you were – I thought maybe they'd made you stay away from me—"

"Kíli, calm down," Fíli said. "You're overreacting. Stop it."

"I need you to stay with me, please," said Kíli. "Please don't leave."

"Kíli, you're fine. I was just – I just stepped out for a minute. I didn't leave you. Now stop this childish behavior. You're working yourself into a tizzy."

Kíli grabbed his brother's hands, his eyes wild and pleading. "Don't leave," he said.

"What is the matter with you?" said Fíli. "I'm right here, Kíli. I'm not going to leave you."

Kíli searched his brother's eyes intently before his gaze shifted to the door. Thorin stood in the doorway, his face showing deep concern; Kíli set his jaw and glared at his uncle.

"I don't want _him_ here," Kíli said to Fíli.

Fíli looked from Kíli to Thorin and back again. "What?" he said.

"Tell him to leave," said Kíli scornfully.

"Kíli, why are you being like this?" Fíli said, nonplussed.

"Just tell him," Kíli said.

"It's all right – I'm going," said Thorin. He shut the door quietly, his frame hunched over in his sorrow.

Fíli turned to Kíli as soon as the door was shut.

"Kíli, you're being ridiculous," he said. "That was unnecessary. And disrespectful, too, I might add."

Kíli's jaw was shifting now as he held back tears. "They're not going to keep you from me," he said. "Not again."

Fíli sighed. Apparently he wasn't going to get anywhere with Kíli today. He climbed onto the bed and sat next to his little brother, pulling him into a tight hug; Kíli relaxed in his arms, and Fíli did not dare let go.

* * *

_****__**That's all until next time! **_OH AND ALSO. I've got another fic in my head that I'll probably start soon! Just so you guys know! It's going to be multi-chapter from Kíli's POV, and it's going to be WAY ANGSTY. :D Heads up on that!

_**Please review! Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, what you would like! I'm a broken record here, I know.  
**_


	21. Anger

_**A/N: Wow, this took too long! Sorry guys. I wish I could get these out faster... I feel like I tricked you by pumping them out so quickly at the beginning, but that was all a clever lie. I actually wrote a bunch at once and then published it over several days... now I have to work hard on each chapter! So that's why they've been so slow lately.**_

_**Super special shoutout to my lovely friend Nalbal, who is the most fantastic person in the universe. We have discovered that we are quite the dynamic duo when it comes to writing fics, sending each other bits of writing over Skype and discussing the finer points of our plot, and generally agonizing about writing and having feels together. If you're not reading her fic A Private Little War, you are seriously missing out. Go read it. Seriously, it's amazing.**_

_**Anyway, here's chapter 21!**_

* * *

Injury and illness may not have killed Kíli, but Fíli was not sure that he wouldn't.

Fíli was nearly at wit's end. Kíli was overly anxious, refusing to let Fíli out of his sight, even for a moment; he had howled when Fíli had left just to go to the bathroom, and Fíli had learned from then on to only sneak out when his brother was resting. Even worse was Kíli's flippant behavior towards Thorin and Dís. No matter what Fíli said, Kíli remained stubbornly angry with both of them.

"Kíli, I was _sick_," Fíli said for what felt like the thousandth time. "If I had been near you, I could have passed it to you, and then you would be dead."

"You could have gotten well _here_," Kíli said. "Mum made you stay away."

Fíli rolled his eyes. "Does it matter? I'm here now."

"You don't understand," said Kíli. "I asked for you. I _needed_ you. I asked for you before you left, and they wouldn't let you in."

Fíli considered this for a moment. He had not immediately gone back to Kíli's side because he was ashamed – ashamed and afraid. But he would not make the situation worse by telling Kíli that.

"I couldn't, Kíli, I just – I couldn't," he said. "Not then."

"Because of Thorin," Kíli spat. "Because of what _he_ did."

"I've forgiven him for what he did," Fíli said. "Why can't you?"

All Fíli got for an answer was a dark look.

Fíli sighed, exasperated. If there had been any doubt that Kíli's mind had been addled by weeks of pain and sickness, those doubts were now gone. His brother's unrivaled stubbornness was only multiplied by his condition; Fíli wished that Kíli would just lie down and rest and get back his strength, but the stubborn young dwarf was constantly trying to sit up or even stand. His impatience to get better was understandable – Fíli understood completely – but he needed to simply relax, something he seemed incapable of doing.

Fíli ran a hand through his hair and studied his little brother. This conversation was going nowhere – again. Kíli was determined to stay angry.

"Kíli, you're being a child," he said. "Can you _try_ to be mature, please?"

"Why don't you get off my back?" Kíli snapped. "You're not my keeper! Who do you think you are, my father?"

Fíli flinched as if Kíli had delivered a physical blow. To Kíli, it was just an empty outburst; he had never known their father – he had died when Kíli was only two years old. But Fíli remembered, and he knew that Kíli had no idea how hard his words had hit. Often their father had chided Fíli for childish behavior. _You're the big brother, Fíli,_ he would say. _You must try to be mature._

A boiling mix of anger and grief rose in Fíli, and he knew that if he stayed for much longer, he was going to lose his temper. He had to get out. He couldn't shout at Kíli – not again.

"I'm going outside," Fíli mumbled, rising abruptly. Kíli's belligerent expression melted into panic, and he reached out frantically for his brother's hand. Fíli stepped back out of his reach.

"Fíli, I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to – don't go."

Fíli took another step back, looking hard at Kíli.

"Don't follow me," he said, and he whirled around before his brother's wide eyes could change his mind and left the room.

"Fíli!" Kíli called anxiously, but Fíli strode away, his gut still boiling. He grabbed his coat and walked outside; the frigid air surprised him, and he coughed as it hit his unprepared lungs. It was early in the year for weather this cold, but the Blue Mountains were often unpredictable. He coughed a few more times and exhaled from his nose, breathing carefully to allow his body to acclimate to the biting chill. The air was still – a mercy in the already freezing weather – and the sky was clear, painted with the reds and oranges of sunset.

He made his way behind the house to the stables and found Thorin brushing his pony, Pepper; Thorin looked up as Fíli approached and nodded in greeting, though his brow was furrowed in confusion.

"Who's with Kíli?" Thorin said.

"No one," said Fíli. He suddenly felt a twinge of worry for his brother, but he pushed it away. Kíli would be fine for a few minutes – he just needed to clear his head. He wouldn't be gone long.

Thorin raised his eyebrows, but turned back to Pepper and resumed his grooming. Fíli leaned against the stable wall and pulled out his pipe; he packed it quickly and lit his tinder-stick on the lantern by the door, bringing it to the bowl of his pipe and puffing as the leaves began to smoke. The pipe-weed worked quickly, and Fíli felt tension leave his shoulders. Minutes passed quietly.

"He's still angry, then?" Thorin said.

"He is," Fíli said. He blew out a ring of smoke and admired it lazily. The cold air felt good after so long inside.

Thorin stopped brushing Pepper and sighed, resting a hand on the pony's black coat. Pepper nickered and tossed her head, displeased with the interruption in her grooming. After a moment, he chuckled lightly and shook his head.

"What's so funny?" said Fíli.

"He's so stubborn," Thorin said. He resumed brushing Pepper. "Stubborn like me."

Fíli chuckled, too. "I think his will beats even yours, Uncle."

Thorin smiled at this. "I'm not sure about that," he said good-naturedly. The two fell back into silence, and Thorin began braiding Pepper's mane.

A sharp, percussive sound punctured the silence, and Pepper started; Thorin steadied her as the sound happened again. He looked to Fíli with a concerned expression, and Fíli looked out into the growing darkness, trying to place the sound.

Coughing.

"Kíli," said Thorin, his eyes wide.

Fíli dropped his pipe and sprinted to the front of the house with Thorin close behind. They found Kíli kneeling on the ground, coughing uncontrollably; Fíli crashed to his knees in front of his brother, panting as the cold air fought against his lungs.

"You… bloody… idiot, Kíli!" Fíli said, wrapping his arms around his brother and creating a cocoon of warmth for Kíli to breathe. "I _told_ you not to follow me!"

Kíli could not respond as the coughs continued to wrack his body relentlessly. His hands found the front of Fíli's coat, and he held on tightly, resting his forehead on his brother's collarbone. He pulled in half a grating gasp before the hacking overtook him again. He was shaking like a leaf; Fíli noted that his brother – his idiot brother – had not even bothered to grab a coat before foolishly coming outside.

"Let's get him inside," Thorin said. "It's not going to stop in this cold." He reached forward and pulled Kíli into his arms; the young dwarf clutched the fur of Fíli's coat desperately, trying to shout a protest, but he could not work past the hacking. Fíli gently loosened his brother's fingers from his coat and pushed the door open, and Thorin carried Kíli inside and back into the bedroom. Gently, he laid Kíli down on the bed, and Fíli jumped up next to him. Immediately Kíli turned onto his side, facing his brother; Fíli put one hand on Kíli's arm and the other on his forehead.

"Relax," he said, brushing Kíli's hair out of his eyes. His brother coughed several more times before he could control himself; he wheezed painfully, his body still shivering violently from the bitter cold outside. Fíli pulled the blankets over him and exchanged a worried look with Thorin.

"What in Durin's name were you thinking, Kíli?" Fíli said. "Running out into the cold in your condition? Are you _trying_ to make yourself worse?"

"You l-l… left… m-me alone," Kíli gasped.

"Kíli, I was gone for less than ten minutes," said Fíli. "You shouldn't have followed me."

"I d-didn't… know if – if you would—"

"Of course I would come back, Kíli! What has gotten into your head?" Fíli said. "I just needed a moment alone, that's all."

"B-but then – but – then _I_ was alone," Kíli said. He curled forward and rested his forehead on Fíli's knee, panting.

"I don't want to be alone," he whispered.

"Kíli…" said Fíli gently. "You've got to stop this. You're driving yourself mad."

"You sound like _them_," Kíli said, an edge of anger filling his voice. Dark eyes flashed up at Fíli.

"We said the same to him," said Thorin. Kíli's eyes flashed again, and he turned his head to face his uncle, his visage stony in clear contempt. Undaunted, Thorin continued.

"Fíli was ill, and the illness played with his mind as we feared losing you," he said.

"We don't want the same to happen to you, Kíli," Fíli added. _Though I fear it already has,_ he thought.

Kíli looked at Fíli, hurt shining in his eyes.

"You… you think I'm mad?" he said.

Fíli exchanged glances with Thorin before he hastily replied, "No! No, of course not. You just need rest, is all. You need to recover."

"_He_ thinks I'm mad," Kíli said contemptuously.

"Kíli," said Thorin, "that isn't what I—"

"Well, if I'm mad, it's your fault!" Kíli shrieked. "_You_ did this to me! _You_ made Fíli leave! _You_ made me try to… try to…" he stopped, gasping for breath. "I stayed for him, and you kept him away."

There was a stunned silence as Thorin looked at his youngest nephew, stricken. Fíli looked from Kíli to his uncle, unsure what to say.

"Is that what this is about?" Thorin said softly. "This is what you think of me?"

Kíli's jaw was shifting now, a telltale sign of coming tears. He turned away from Thorin and stared out at nothing; Thorin put a hand on his shoulder, but the young dwarf jerked away from his touch.

"Kíli…" Thorin said. He took a deep breath. "I… made a mistake. I am sorry. Truly."

"I want to sleep," Kíli said. "Please go."

Thorin's hand hovered over Kíli's shuddering frame, but he did not dare touch him, lest he be rejected once again. After a few moments, he dropped his hand to his side, looking forlornly from his younger nephew to the elder. There was a strange look in his eyes – something that Fíli was not sure he had ever seen before in the face of his proud, stubborn uncle, something he couldn't quite place. Thorin retreated from the bedside, stepping back towards the door.

"As you wish," he said, letting the door close behind him with a soft _click._

Fíli turned his gaze down towards his brother, who had finally stopped shivering from the cold; his eyes were closed and his breathing was even, but Fíli could easily tell that he was only feigning sleep. He nudged Kíli's forehead softly with his knee; predictably, Kíli did not respond, so Fíli nudged him again. Dark brown eyes glared up at him.

"You've got to stop that," Fíli said, as gently as he could through his frustration. "He is our elder. Our uncle. Our king. He deserves our respect."

"_You_ didn't seem to think so a couple—"

Suddenly Kíli stopped, his eyes widening; Fíli looked at him quizzically.

"What were you going to say, Kíli?"

"Nothing," Kíli muttered. He closed his eyes and buried his face into his pillow, his hair falling over his one visible eye. Fíli's eyebrows drew together. Why was Kíli being so evasive? He lifted Kíli's hair away, but his eyes were shut tight.

"Kíli?"

There was no response.

Fíli thought about what Kíli had said. _You didn't seem to think so a couple_… a couple what? _He deserves our respect… _but Kíli thought that Fíli didn't think so. When had he said such a thing? He trailed through the past few weeks in his mind, trying to think of some time when he…

He remembered.

_"Enough," said Dís sharply, still holding her son back. "That is __enough__, Fíli. You have no right to speak to my brother that way. You will show him respect."_

_ "I'll show him respect when he deserves it," Fíli spat contemptuously._

The full picture came to him then. Kíli had heard him. Kíli had heard his argument with Thorin, even though he had been in a coma. Which meant that Kíli had heard what Thorin had to say, too.

_ "I'm not __imagining__ things!" Fíli said, stepping away. "It happened! Why do you have no hope?"_

_ "Because there is none!" Thorin bellowed._

Fíli put a hand on Kíli's shoulder; his brother twitched, but did not draw away.

"You could hear us?" he said. "That whole time?"

Kíli shook his head into his pillow. "I didn't hear anything," he mumbled, his voice muffled. "I was unconscious. How could I—" He stopped, realizing his mistake, and his hands curled into fists as he swore. Fíli raised an eyebrow, amused.

"But you know what I'm talking about, somehow," he said.

Kíli slammed a fist into the mattress and groaned.

"Leave me alone," he said into his pillow.

"Kíli, look at me."

Reluctantly, Kíli turned his head, gleaming brown eyes meeting soft blue.

"What did you hear?"

"Noth—"

"Don't lie."

Kíli's face instantly crumpled, and he buried his face back in his pillow, saying nothing. Fíli tightened his grip on Kíli's shoulder and shook him gently.

"Talk to me, brother," he said.

Kíli mumbled something into the pillow that Fíli could not understand. He lowered his head, turning so his ear was close to Kíli, but his brother was silent.

"What did you say?" he coaxed.

Kíli turned his head. "He said there was no hope for me."

It was as he feared. Kíli always had a way of hearing the worst in what Thorin said, and now was no exception.

"That was weeks ago, Kíli," said Fíli. "You had – you had a seizure… you weren't breathing for so long… we didn't know if you would wake up. We all felt a little hopeless. A little helpless."

"He didn't…" Kíli choked back a sob. "I'm not strong. I'm weak. He thinks I'm weak."

"Why would he think that?" Fíli said.

Kíli pressed his lips together and shook his head, seeking refuge once more in the pillow – but Fíli would have none of that. He pulled Kíli's hair away from his ear and leaned down low, whispering.

"Kíli, you have always confided in me," he said. "Every fear, every joy, every insecurity… now is not the time to start keeping secrets. You wanted me here – I'm here. Don't hide from me. Not now."

Kíli lifted his head slowly, and Fíli sat up; Kíli's hair dropped in front of his eyes, but even through the tangled strands, Fíli could see the tears threatening to spill over.

"It's just that – he – he said that there was no hope – and I – I'm so _useless_, I couldn't even _breathe_ on my own, he had to _tell_ me to breathe and I couldn't and it hurt and I just wanted to give up and I can't even _stand_ or _walk_ or – or take care of myself, I'm so weak, I'm so _weak_, he must think _nothing_ of me—"

"Kíli."

"No!" Kíli said. "I can't… I don't want him here – he's given up on me, Fíli. He thinks I'm weak." Kíli took Fíli's hand in his own, his eyes shining with the desperation of one who clung to his very last hope. "You didn't give up on me. I heard you – you were angry with him—"

"He said he was sorry, Kíli," Fíli said. "He apologized. You only heard part of it. He told me he was wrong to lose hope."

A flicker of light sparked in Kíli's eyes at these words; it was faint, but it was there. He searched Fíli's eyes for a moment; then, a shadow seemed to cross over his face, and he looked down, somehow seeming to shrink without losing any size.

"_I_ gave up on me," he said.

Fíli's heart dropped. The picture was starting to come together now.

"Kíli, you're not weak," he said. "You're strong. You… you fought back _death_, for Mahal's sake. How could you think you were weak?"

"I did it for _you_!" Kíli cried. "I wanted it to end – it hurts so much – but I couldn't – I could never leave you alone, not like that – but then _he_ hurt you, and then you were gone, and Mum wouldn't let you come back…" Kíli clenched his fists and curled up, his breathing irregular as he fought against his emotions. Fíli sighed, discouraged; he hadn't picked the right thing to say, and he had lost any ground that he might have gained in the past few minutes.

Fíli reached out and took Kíli's arm, tugging him gently. Kíli responded by pulling himself up as much as his sore body would allow, and Fíli pulled him into a warm embrace; Kíli melted into his arms. The younger dwarf let out a shaky sigh but he held his own, sitting silently as his big brother gave him exactly what he needed.

"You're strong, Kíli," he said. "You're strong. Do you hear me?" He felt Kíli nod into his shoulder. "I know you're frustrated, and I know you feel ashamed – but please, Kíli – stop taking it out on Uncle."

Kíli stiffened in his arms, and he sighed.

"Never mind all that," he said. "Are you hungry?"

A nod.

"All right, let me get us something, then," Fíli said, but at his words, Kíli's grip tightened on his brother. Fíli pulled back and gently pulled Kíli's arms off of him, looking into Kíli's eyes and willing his little brother to look back. Eventually, Kíli met his gaze; the look in his eyes was far away – _lost,_ Fíli thought. He looked lost. But by Durin, Fíli would help his baby brother find his way back.

"I'll be _right back_," he said. "Can you handle that without doing something – rash?"

"Y-yes," Kíli said, flushing. He leaned back into his pillows and raised his eyebrows, as if to say _see, I can be reasonable._ Fíli smiled and hopped off the bed, taking one last look at his brother before he left the room.

The door closed with a click, and Fíli leaned against it, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. He had to get through to Kíli. He would – but he didn't know how. He thought of Thorin and the look on his face when Kíli had rejected his touch: something odd, something he couldn't quite place.

Suddenly it came to him – _humility._ His proud uncle had humbled himself before his nephew, only to be rejected and scorned. But Kíli could not get away with that forever – Fíli would draw him out.

* * *

_**I don't know how much longer this fic is going to take, but we're nearing the end! Definitely at least 2 or 3 chapters left, if not more. I'm kind of flying by the seat of my pants, here.  
**_

_**Don't forget to review! Please! Tell me what you think - and if there are any parts of Kíli's recovery that you especially want to see and haven't yet, let me know! I can't guarantee I'll use your idea, but I'll definitely consider it! So until next time - review!  
**_


	22. Strong

Fíli sat at the bedside, studying his little brother as he slept. It was late at night, and Kíli was exhausted after the ordeal earlier in the day. Even though he was healing, the recovery was slow; even the effort of getting from the bed to the front door had been enough to sap Kíli's still minimal strength.

Fíli stifled a yawn and stretched; it had been quite a while since he had moved. After he and Kíli had eaten, Fíli tried to keep the conversation off illness or pain or their uncle and their mother. Though their talk had been punctuated with intermittent coughing and Kíli had had to eventually resort to signing to save his breath, it had been all in all successful. However, even as Kíli slowly drifted off to sleep, Fíli's thoughts returned to his brother's revelation earlier in the day.

_He must think nothing of me._

Fíli knew that Kíli was wrong – that Thorin in fact cared for him deeply, that he fought hard for Kíli's life every day – as much as his nephew allowed, anyway. A surge of compassion went through him as he recalled Thorin's face when Kíli had rejected his apology – rejected _him_. The hurt on his face was so raw and unguarded that Fíli was surprised – he knew that Thorin cared very much for his nephew, but the old, stoic dwarf usually kept his emotions in check, hiding behind of mask of kingly authority, and the fact that he had taken off that mask and so humbly apologized to the youngest in his charge spoke volumes. Why couldn't Kíli see that?

With a wary glance at his little brother to make sure that he was actually asleep, Fíli picked up the plates forgotten at the bedside, Kíli's still containing a decent amount of meat and cheese. Kíli had only nibbled at his food, eating all the bread but leaving almost everything else and claiming a shrunken stomach. Fíli tried not to worry – at least he was eating. At least he was alive. _Count your blessings,_ he told himself. He carried the dishes out to the kitchen, closing the door behind him with his foot.

Dís looked up from the kitchen table, where she sat with a mug of tea in her hands. Fíli offered her a small smile, which she returned sadly. Thorin was in his usual seat by the fire with his pipe.

"Is he asleep?" said Dís.

"He is," Fíli replied. "He was so tired… I'm surprised it took him so long."

"Iron will, that one," quipped Thorin, looking over his shoulder.

"Mithril is more like it," said Dís, and Fíli snorted. Dís rose and walked towards Fíli.

"Let me take that, love," she said, and Fíli handed her the plates; Dís eyed the amount of food remaining on Kíli's plate worriedly.

"He said he still can't eat much," Fíli said. "He ate all of the bread, though."

Dís nodded, though her eyes still showed concern, and made for the sink. Fíli sat down at the table and folded his arms on top, resting his face on his forearms. He heard his mother cleaning the dishes, and it mixed with the crackle of the fire and Thorin's low humming in such a soothing way that soon he was drifting off into sleep.

A hand on his back startled Fíli awake, and he looked up; Thorin stood beside him with a sad but kindly glow in his blue eyes. He sat down diagonal from his nephew, and the two simply looked at one another for a long moment. Fíli could read the words in Thorin's eyes: _What can I do?_ The transparency surprised him, and he looked down, feeling uncomfortable.

"Fíli."

Fíli looked back up at his uncle attentively.

"Is there anything I should know?"

Fíli looked from Thorin to Dís, who settled back down in her seat and wrapped her hands around her tea mug. Both mother and uncle stared at Fíli, eager to learn what he knew.

"He's – he's angry," Fíli started.

"Well, we know that," said Dís.

"Not just at you," said Fíli. "Though he is – but I think he is also angry with himself."

Thorin furrowed his brow. "Why?" he said.

"I think… I think he sees himself as weak. He's angry with himself for giving up, for having to be taken care of so thoroughly."

"He couldn't help that," said Dís.

"He's looking at it wrong," Thorin added. "He is of the line of Durin. He is strong. These past days have proven so."

"I think you need to tell _him_ that," said Fíli, locking eyes with his uncle. "That's the other thing. Uncle, he heard everything."

"Everything? What do you—"

"After the seizure," said Fíli. "When he was in a coma… he could hear us. The whole time."

Thorin's eyebrows shot up, and Dís let out a surprised gasp. The siblings exchanged looks as Fíli continued.

"Remember how I said he squeezed my hand?" he said. "I think he really did. He could hear me, and he also heard our – our argument after."

Thorin studied Fíli's face, his brow furrowed; then, the realization hit him, and his expression melted into genuine distress.

"He heard…" Thorin brought his hand up to his forehead and shut his eyes tight with a grimace. He opened them after a moment. "And he believes that I still think that?"

Fíli nodded sadly. "I told him otherwise, but – I think he needs to hear it from you, Uncle. I think he still believes that about himself."

"He's been holding that all this time?" said Dís. "No wonder he has been so depressed… I thought it was because he wanted to see you."

"Well, that's another reason why he is upset," said Fíli. "He's angry that you made me stay with Balin and Dwalin."

"He wasn't the only one, if I recall," said Dís with a wry smile, and Fíli grinned sheepishly.

"Well, I saw sense after a while," he said. "I just can't seem to make Kíli see it." Fíli sighed and pushed his palms into his eyes. "I don't know what to do. He's so _unreasonable_."

"Some things never change," Thorin said, smiling despite himself.

"Fíli," called Kíli's voice from his room. All three dwarves turned to look at the door.

"Sleep talking?" said Dís.

Fíli shrugged as Kíli's voice drifted into the room again.

"Fíli?"

Fíli stood and walked the short distance to the bedroom; he opened the door quietly and poked his head into the room. Kíli's face was barely lit by the dying fire, but there was no glint of light off his eyes. Fíli stepped into the room and studied Kíli carefully.

"No batrabbit," Kíli mumbled.

A smile twitched on Fíli's lips at the nonsense words. Kíli was deeply asleep. He leaned out the door and beckoned to Thorin and Dís, putting a finger up to his lips, and the two rose and crept into the room.

"He's asleep," Fíli warned quietly.

Dís got to the bedside first and sat down beside her youngest son, settling into the chair and leaning forward to stroke his hair. He stirred as she touched him, and she drew her hand away hastily, but he did not wake; so her hand returned to his brow, smoothing the unkempt hair in his face. Her movements were gentle and hesitant, and Fíli sighed sadly. If Kíli were awake, he would have her out in an instant – this was the only time since Fíli had come home that she had been able to be in his presence. He knew Kíli was hurting her by pushing her away, but he did not know how to fix the situation.

Dís leaned over Kíli and kissed his forehead, and then she stood, letting out a carefully controlled breath. Her shining eyes met Fíli's, and her lips pulled into a wan smile.

"Thank you," she said. Wrapping her arms around herself, she said, "I think I'll go to bed now. Good night." She kissed Fíli on the cheek as she passed, and briefly took Thorin's hand as she walked out the door. Her brother watched her leave and shut the door after her; then, his gaze turned to his youngest nephew.

"He'd never let me in, were he awake," Thorin said, stepping towards the bed. Fíli caught a small waver in his uncle's voice, and he felt a surge of compassion for him. Never had he seen Thorin so desperate to receive forgiveness. Thorin sank into the chair at the bedside and rested his elbows on his knees, dropping his face into his open hands.

"You said sorry."

Thorin's head shot up, and Fíli quickly looked to his brother, but Kíli seemed to still be fast asleep.

"You never do that."

Thorin inhaled sharply and bowed his head; Fíli looked down, suddenly feeling like he was intruding on a private moment. When he looked up again, Thorin had one of Kíli's hands in his, and he was pushing his nephew's hair off his face with the other. His touch was cautious, just like Dís's had been – wary of waking him and incurring his wrath. Fíli had never thought he would see the day when his uncle would be nervous around his little brother, and he suddenly realized with a pang just how much Thorin loved Kíli and how much he feared losing him.

"I wish I knew how to – what to say," Thorin said. "I wish he thought better of me."

"He may yet," said Fíli, and Thorin took a shuddering breath. "You could try speaking to him when he wakes."

Thorin huffed. "If he will hear me," he said. He bowed his head again, and Fíli tried not to notice how forced the calmness was in his uncle's tone. He was not equipped with the ability or capacity to comfort him, and he did not dare try.

* * *

"Fíli."

Fíli stirred as a hand touched his back, but he did not open his eyes.

"Fíli, wake up."

"What do you want, Kíli?" Fíli said grumpily, still keeping his eyes stubbornly closed.

"I… I have to go. I need your help."

Fíli finally opened his eyes with a groan. He looked over to his little brother; Kíli had managed to pull himself into a sitting position, but Fíli could see the nervous look in his eyes.

"You seemed to do fine on your own yesterday," he said.

An indignant look crossed Kíli's face. "Please, Fíli," he said. "You know that didn't… work out."

"That's 'cause you're an idiot," Fíli said, rising and tossing off his covers. He crossed to Kíli's side of the bed and held out his hands.

"Come on. Let's go."

Kíli grabbed hold of Fíli's hands and tried to pull himself out of bed, wincing at the pain; Fíli moved to help him further, but Kíli shook his head.

"I can do this," he said.

Fíli wasn't so sure, but he nodded and let Kíli try, forcing himself to stay still as Kíli gritted his teeth and grunted in his effort. He got to his feet successfully, though he wrapped one arm around his sore abdomen and leaned heavily on his brother.

"How on earth did you get out of bed yesterday?" Fíli said.

"Determination," said Kíli with a cheeky grin. "Took me a while."

"I can imagine," Fíli muttered. Kíli took a step forward, and Fíli held him steady; the younger dwarf seemed to find his balance, and the elder loosened his grip.

"All right?" he said.

"I think so," Kíli gasped, clutching his healing side. He gritted his teeth again. "Still pulls when I walk."

"Take it slow," Fíli said, sidling up next to his little brother and holding out his hands protectively. "I'm here. I won't let you fall."

"Thanks."

Slowly but surely, the two brothers made it down the hallway to the bathroom and back without incident or further injury to Kíli's dignity. As they reached the kitchen, Thorin stepped out of the living room; he and Kíli locked eyes, and Kíli went rigid.

"Kíli – can we talk?" said Thorin quickly, seizing his chance.

"I…" Kíli took a step back towards Fíli, who grabbed his elbow and squeezed it gently. Kíli turned to look at his brother; though he attempted to keep a stony expression, Fíli could see the trepidation shining just below the surface.

"Come on, Kíli," Fíli said.

"Kíli, please," said Thorin.

After another moment's hesitation, Kíli finally relented, slowly making his way to the kitchen table. Fíli smiled to himself – perhaps Kíli truly _had_ taken his words the previous evening to heart. Kíli gripped the table and lowered himself into a chair, grimacing as his body protested; Fíli assisted as much as he could until Kíli was fully seated. Instead of sitting at the table, Thorin pulled a chair over so he could sit right next to his nephew and face him. Kíli looked straight ahead as Thorin sat, avoiding his eyes with a stony glare into nothing, and Thorin looked at him sadly.

"Look at me," he said gently, but Kíli did not turn. Thorin and Fíli exchanged weary glances.

"Fíli told me about what you heard," Thorin continued. Kíli turned suddenly to glare at his brother, an angry fire of betrayal burning in his eyes, but Fíli merely shrugged, undaunted by Kíli's attitude.

"Kíli, please, look at me," Thorin said, desperation ringing in his voice.

Slowly, Kíli turned his head, and his dark brown eyes met the crystalline blue of his uncle's. A world of hurt shone in those dark eyes, and Thorin looked on his nephew tenderly.

"I don't think you are weak, Kíli," Thorin said, and Kíli's breath caught in his throat, his eyes fixed on his uncle. Thorin reached for his nephew's hand, but Kíli jerked away.

"Kíli, what—"

"You're lying," Kíli said with a trembling voice. "You – you don't mean that. You're just trying to clear your conscience because I heard you."

"Kíli, how could you say something like that?" Fíli exclaimed. "You know that isn't—"

"It's all right, Fíli," said Thorin, his eyes settled on Kíli. "Let me handle this."

Fíli closed his mouth and took a step back, resigning himself to being merely an observer. Thorin's piercing gaze never left his youngest nephew, and Kíli was still staring back.

"I _do_ mean it," said Thorin. "You are absolutely _not_ weak. Not at all, Kíli."

At these words, Kíli rose abruptly, grunting and clutching his side. Thorin started forward, but Kíli turned and stumbled directly into Fíli, who grabbed hold of him by the arms and helped him regain his balance. Kíli bowed his head and attempted to pull away, but Fíli held him fast.

"Kíli, what on earth...?" said Fíli, trying to get a look at his brother's face; Kíli took in a ragged breath and fought to free himself again, but Fíli ducked his head and caught a glimpse of a tear rolling down his cheek. Suddenly, he understood; he looked up at Thorin and mouthed _he's crying._ A hint of a smile played on Thorin's lips, and he rose and crossed over to where Fíli stood holding his little brother. He beckoned for Fíli to hand him over, and Fíli turned Kíli around to face their uncle. Kíli shook his head and leaned back, pressing into Fíli and sniffling, his hair hanging over his face.

"And I will not think less of you if you cry," Thorin said. Hesitantly, he reached out, filtering his fingers through his youngest nephew's hair and taking hold of the sides of his face. Kíli flinched, but he did not pull away, and Thorin pulled his head forward until their temples touched. Kíli let out a sudden sob and gasped, and for a moment, they simply stood, foreheads touching. The only sound in the room was Kíli's harsh breathing.

"I was wrong, Kíli," Thorin said. "I lost hope, and I was wrong to do so. You are strong – stronger than I even thought."

"B-but how can you _say_ that?" Kíli said. "I was – I _was_ weak. I g-gave up. I'm – I'm so _useless_, I can b-barely walk, I n-need help with _everything_—"

"You fought back death, Kíli," said Thorin. "You have gone through the darkest nights and been here for the morning. Few dwarves have been so strong. I can ask no more than that."

"But I – I only s-stayed because of Fíli," Kíli argued.

"I know," Thorin said. "And I kept him away from you – I hurt him. And I am truly sorry, Kíli. Please forgive me."

Kíli shook his head, but he did not pull away, and Thorin took it as his cue to continue.

"I cannot say that I have done rightly by you. I... I am not sure that I have done anything right."

Kíli raised his eyes to meet Thorin's, his breath catching.

"I have hurt you. I have failed you. I have said and done things that I never should have done. But I have _always_ loved you as if you were my own son."

As Thorin spoke, Kíli lost himself to sobbing in great, desperate gasps, his knees shaking until they gave out. Fíli quickly grabbed his brother's elbows and helped him lower to the floor; Thorin never broke from his hold, sinking to the floor with his nephew temple-to-temple, continuing to speak.

"When you had a seizure and stopped breathing, I was so afraid, Kíli. I was _so_ afraid. Your life is more precious to me than all the gold in Middle-Earth, and I thought I was going to lose you. I gave you breath over and over, but you would not breathe... and then you did... and it was the best miracle I ever could have asked for. But when you did not wake, it was like losing you again. I could not bear it. I thought you were lost – I thought – I thought..." Thorin's voice broke. He suddenly pulled Kíli's head into his shoulder and wrapped one arm around his sobbing nephew, the fingers of his other hand entangled in the back of Kíli's dark mane.

"But you made it through. I was wrong, Kíli. I was wrong, so wrong. You are strong. You are _so_ strong. I am sorry. I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Thorin rested his cheek on the top of Kíli's head and squeezed his eyes shut, whispering _I'm sorry_ in steady repetition. Kíli finally wrapped his arms around his uncle and continued to weep violently into his shoulder; Thorin gently rocked him, and it seemed to Fíli that to the two of them, the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

Fíli heard a sniffle coming from the hall and looked up, drying his own eyes quickly. Dís leaned against the wall in the entrance to the kitchen, watching her brother and her son with a fond smile, though tears trailed down her cheeks. She turned her gaze to her eldest son, and she nodded towards the living room.

With a last glance towards Thorin and Kíli, Fíli followed his mother into the other room. Dís took his hand and kissed him on the cheek, and they sat in quiet conversation by the fire, leaving the other two in privacy – though they could still hear Thorin's steady chant of apology and Kíli's sobs for a long while after.

* * *

**_A/N: Dang, this took too long to write - but oh, was it worth it! I hope that I have done justice to this scene, because it was really, really important to me to get it right. It's heavily based on a personal experience, so it's dear to my heart._**

**_All sleep talking is brought to you courtesy of my best friend, who I hope is one day famous for coining the term "batrabbit", albeit in her sleep._**

**_I'll update this chapter a bit later to add in the accents - I can't bring my laptop to work anymore, and my work computer doesn't have MS Word, and therefore it's really annoying to put them in. I'll fix it later._**

**_Please review! Reviews feed my soul and bring me joy. I love hearing from you!_**


	23. A Quiet Evening

_**A/N: Special thanks to cecania13 for being my beta for this chapter! Further notes at the end. Read on!**_

* * *

The air was warm and gentle as Fíli and Kíli made their way slowly through the clearing near their small village. The cold snap had passed, leaving surprisingly balmy weather in its wake, and Kíli had begged to be allowed outside for the first time in a month (save for one small mishap). After bundling Kíli up far more than he thought necessary, Dís had given her blessing to the trek and watched the brothers depart with a final warning to _be careful_ and _take it slow_.

Kíli had even taken his bow, though Fíli was not sure how he planned on using it while supporting himself with the cane Thorin had purchased for him from a neighboring village. Still, he did not want to dishearten his little brother if he did not have to, so he had helped him strap on the bow and quiver, and they had set out.

"Let's… let's stop here for a bit," Kíli said, wheezing slightly. Fíli nodded and took Kíli's elbow, helping him sit in the cool grass. Kíli reached back to pull of his bow and quiver, wincing; Fíli quickly pulled them off for him, and Kíli lay down in the grass, closing his eyes and attempting to steady his breathing.

"You doing all right?" Fíli said, joining his brother in the grass.

"Yeah, yeah, just tired, is all," Kíli said casually. He took a couple of deep breaths, smiling as he exhaled. He did this often now – breathing in deeply, seeing how far he could push his endurance before the pain came, and it was a little farther every day. The two lay in silence, admiring the deep reds and oranges of the twilit sky.

"How long d'you think until Mum sends Thorin to search for us?" said Kíli finally.

Fíli studied the sky with narrowed eyes. "An hour, maybe two," he said. "We probably shouldn't stay out too much longer. It's getting cold, and it'll take twice as long to get home with you."

Kíli cried out, offended. "I think I'll manage just fine, thank you," he retorted. "Bet I'm still quicker than you."

Fíli scoffed, and his brother let out a small chuckle that turned into a cough. Fíli rolled onto his side and looked at Kíli, concerned.

"M'fine," Kíli muttered, avoiding Fíli's gaze. Fíli raised one eyebrow, but Kíli closed his eyes and began breathing deeply once again.

"I thought you wanted to make it to the woods," Fíli said, peering again into the darkening sky. "We'd better get a move on."

"Half a moment!" Kíli protested, keeping his eyes closed and clutching at the grass. He sighed happily, and Fíli could tell that he was relishing the feeling of earth and dirt – _nature_ – after so long cooped up at home. He waited patiently, breathing in the gentle air and relaxing in the stillness of evening. He felt peace sinking into every pore of his body, drawing out the stress and pain of the past four weeks. It had been five days since Kíli had reconciled with Thorin and Dís, and as he let go of his anger, his health had improved rapidly; he could now walk and talk for a decent amount of time without losing his breath, though he moved slowly to avoid pulling his still-healing side. The cane Thorin had purchased had been treated with scorn at first, but Kíli had begrudgingly accepted it after he realized that he could walk around without someone hovering around him, concerned, at every moment.

Nothing brought Fíli more joy than the knowledge that Kíli was alive and finally, truly, on the mend.

"All right, I'm ready," said Kíli, pulling Fíli from his thoughts; Fíli blinked and looked to his brother, who was struggling to pull himself back up.

"Here, let me help," said Fíli, standing to his feet and holding out his hands. Kíli stared at his brother's hands for a moment, a shadow passing over his face. Fíli frowned.

"It's all right, Kíli," he said kindly. "There's nothing wrong with—"

"Needing help, I know," Kíli interrupted, taking Fíli's hands and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He huffed and steadied himself; Fíli picked up the cane and handed it to him.

"Thanks," Kíli said sheepishly. He looked down to the ground and nodded to his bow and quiver.

"Can you carry those?"

Fíli's heart leapt into his throat at the simple request. _Relax,_ he told himself. _You're carrying them, not shooting them._ He swallowed back his fears and nodded, picking up the weapons and slinging them over his shoulder.

The brothers slowly made their way into the woods, taking twice as long as usual as Kíli hobbled along. Eventually they made it to a familiar spot. Fíli looked around, and his stomach lurched. He turned to Kíli with wide eyes.

"Why did you want to come _here_?"

Kíli smiled at his brother, panting. "Why not?" he said. "It's a good spot."

"A good spot for what?"

"For practice," Kíli said, rolling his eyes. He set down his cane and motioned to Fíli to hand over his bow and quiver; Fíli eyed him apprehensively, knowing that Kíli would not be able to shoot his bow just yet.

"Kíli…" he said softly, reaching for the bow but not putting it in his brother's hands. Kíli lowered his waiting hand slowly, the light in his eyes dimming and his smile fading.

"You don't think I can do it," he said flatly.

"I think the stretch will be too much just yet," Fíli said quickly, and Kíli's smile died away completely. Fíli's heart sank as he kept his brother's gaze – he knew his words stung, but they were the truth. "But soon. Just give yourself time to heal."

"Can't I at least try?" Kíli said, his voice thick. He and Fíli stared at one another, and his jaw shifted slightly. Fíli licked his lips and pressed them together, sighing; he pulled the bow off his back and handed it to Kíli.

"All right," he said. "But don't push yourself too much. You've been unwell for too long to hurt yourself again."

Kíli shot him a cross look and held out his hand for an arrow; after a moment of hesitation, Fíli placed one in his waiting hand, and Kíli expertly nocked it into the bow. Fíli cringed, waiting for the moment he knew was coming, and sure enough, it did. As Kíli pulled pack on the bowstring, an agonized look crossed his face and he gasped harshly, dropping the bow and arrow and slapping both hands over his left side. Fíli bit back his _I told you so_ and ran forward, hands outstretched; Kíli hit his hands away.

"I'm _fine_," he said, giving his brother a dark look. Fíli nodded and took a step back, allowing Kíli to compose himself unassisted. He bent down and picked up the bow and arrow. Kíli squeezed his eyes shut and grunted, holding still as he waited for the pain to stop; after a few moments, he opened his eyes again and looked up at his brother.

"See? Fine," he said with a half-hearted grin. Fíli shook his head with a small smile and chuckled lightly. Kíli truly was the most stubborn dwarf he knew. He looked up at Kíli again, and the look on his brother's face made him start. Kíli's face was frozen in fear as he looked over his brother's shoulder.

"What is it?" Fíli said, looking over his shoulder – and then he saw it. A wolf prowled much too close to the two dwarves, watching them with hungry eyes. Fíli felt every muscle in his body tighten as an icy stream of panic flooded through him.

"It's fine," Kíli whispered, but the tightness in his voice betrayed his words. "It's all right... right? It hasn't seen us."

"Shut up, Kíli," Fíli hissed. "It's looking straight at us. Of course it's seen us."

Fíli's mind raced as he considered his options. The wolf clearly considered them a weak target – it had probably seen the slowness of Kíli's movements and picked him out as an ideal meal. He stepped in front of his brother and pushed the younger dwarf behind him.

"Shoot it," Kíli whispered frantically.

Another flood of cold panic went through Fíli at those words. _I can't I can't I won't I'll hurt Kíli I can't do it._ Fíli shook his head violently, and he felt Kíli grab his arm and squeeze.

"Fíli, I can't shoot. You're going to have to do it. It's going to come after us. Look at it."

Fíli shook his head again as tears stung the corners of his eyes. Fear washed over him and muddled his senses, and his breathing quickened; he balled his fists and then stretched out his fingers, trying to gather himself back together. Why hadn't he brought any weapons? The only thing he had that could cause harm was the small knife in his pocket - and the wolf was too far away to cause any damage with the miniature blade. Why had he left himself defenseless with only one weapon - one that he was afraid to use?

"Fíli, don't be foolish! I'm fine. I'm back here. Now _use the bow._"

Fíli heard the sense in Kíli's words, but the fear was paralyzing him now. He tried to pull the bow in his hands up, but his hands stayed lowered, as if they were not receiving the messages he as sending to them. He whimpered softly, and Kíli's grip tightened on his arm.

"_Fíli,_" he begged. The wolf was creeping closer now, and the bow dangled loose in Fíli's hand.

"Why can't we run? Let's just run," Fíli said, wincing as he heard the high, panicked sound of his own voice. Kíli let out a disbelieving scoff.

"Did you forget who you're with?" Kíli said. He was moving backwards and pulling Fíli back with him slowly. "I am _not_ running anywhere."

Fíli looked down at the bow in his hand and back up to the wolf, who was crouching. It had seen its window of opportunity - it could sense their fear, and it was ready to pounce. Fíli could feel it. His stomach lurched in panic, and he sidestepped so that he was completely blocking Kíli from the wolf's view. It was no use; the wolf leapt forward.

"_Shoot it!_" Kíli screamed, and finally, Fíli pulled up the bow and nocked an arrow into it as quickly as he could. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the wolf charged towards him and Kíli - his Kíli. His Kíli, who had survived so much pain and misery and would _not_ die because of one hungry wolf. Tears burned in his eyes as he fought down the irrational fear that gripped him, and he aimed and fired. For a moment, he thought he had missed - but then the wolf let out an ear-splitting yelp and stumbled, the shaft of the arrow sticking out from the creature's front shoulder-blade. It snapped furiously at the object causing it so much pain, but Fíli's shot had been true; the arrow had sunk deep into its shoulder. Without another thought, Fíli pulled out another arrow and fired, and the wolf lay still.

Suddenly everything seemed very silent. Fíli noticed a fading roar as the blood rushed through his ears, and his knuckles were white as he gripped the bow. He let out a ragged gasp and blinked; the world seemed to spin, and he stumbled, crashing into a tree close by.

"Hey!" Kíli cried out, following his brother and laying a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it's all right. You did it, Fíli."

A disbelieving laugh escaped Fíli's lips, and he turned his eyes wildly to look at his brother. Kíli was smiling broadly, though his eyes shone with concern. Fíli could feel the tear tracks on his face; he dropped the bow and wiped at his eyes, embarrassed, and took a shaky breath.

"I _knew_ you'd be a good shot," Kíli said proudly, but Fíli's chest tightened. He dropped the bow and shook his head slowly, and Kíli frowned, drawing his eyebrows together.

"I... I can't, Kíli," he said breathlessly. "I'm glad I stopped the wolf, but... I don't want this. I can't do this."

"Can't do what?"

"I don't want to learn to shoot," Fíli said. "That's you. That's all you." He offered his brother a half-hearted grin. "If we ever fight Smaug, I think you'll have to be the brave archer to save the day."

Kíli studied Fíli's face and nodded slowly.

"All right," he said. "I won't make you shoot again."

Fíli sniffed and dipped his head in gratitude, then leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes for a moment. Suddenly, he was trapped in his brother's warm embrace; after he got over his initial surprise, he wrapped his arms as tightly as he dared around his little brother, dropping his forehead onto Kíli's shoulder and fighting back fresh tears.

"I love you, brother," Kíli whispered.

"Love you too," Fíli mumbled. Kíli made no move to let go, and Fíli was glad of it. He had his little brother, and that was all that he needed. Kíli was alive. Kíli was safe. Kíli _would_ get well - the horror was over.

In that moment, Fíli truly understood the meaning of _peace_.

* * *

_**A/N: Well... this is the end. Sorry to spring it on you guys - I didn't realize it was the end until I sat down to write it! It's been an amazing journey... I've never written anything anywhere near this long in my life, and I'm super proud of it. I've made so many friends through writing this, and I love all of you and I'm glad to have met you! Thank you to all my reviewers, followers, and casual readers for choosing my fic to read and love. You're all beautiful.  
**_

_**This is not the end of fics from me! I've got some new fics in the works, which some of you have heard about, and most of you have not. If you like this, you'll love the next multi-chapter fic I have planned - it's from Kíli's POV, and it's going to be super angsty and painful. The premise is that Fíli and Kíli get in a fight one day and Fíli stomps off on his own... but doesn't return. Kíli goes out to search for him, but what he finds is NOT the brother he has grown up with... so stay tuned for that! I also have a Fíli/Kíli family/angst oneshot in the works, and a really awfully painful oneshot about Bifur (and Bofur, and Bombur) that I think will be really interesting to write. Gosh, I need to write some joy, don't I?**_

_**Anyway, thanks so much for sticking with me. It's been a blast.**_


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